Welcome to Overwatch: A Multi Fandom Fanfiction
by TheGenericWriter
Summary: Six months after the destruction of both S.H.I.E.L.D and Overwatch, new and old heroes must arise to rebuild Overwatch in able to take on the deadly threat known as TALON's SPECTRES. Heroes and villains alike rise as a new awakening of heroes prompts them to band together once more. A multi-fandom crossover, I do not own the fandoms or establishments in this fanfiction.
1. Reformation

Welcome to Overwatch.

Chapter One:

Reformation

July 2016.

6 months after the destruction of Overwatch.

1 year after the supposed destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D

Washington D.C.

He walked among the ruins of the Triskelion, former headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D, later Overwatch, he wasn't surprised that U.S. government hadn't cleaned up this place. He was considered dead after all, presumed to be deceased after what happened in Switzerland six months ago. Most of its members have left or either been killed in action, Snake and Reinhardt had both underwent surgery to reverse their aging, Chris was at Cornell, Sly had returned to the Assassin Order, The Avengers disbanded and Thrall had gone back to Orgrimmar to resume being Warchief. He was John Morrison, known today as "Soldier: 76" presumed dead. The world needed new heroes after what happened with Nick Fury, and he was the key to the keyhole.

* * *

Cornell University, Ithaca New York.

A nineteen year old man was walking on the campus at night, simply known as Chris, better known as "Pliskin" was formerly an adventurer, living in Lion's Arch, later Stormwind, he was no initiate to combat. The Battle of New York, The Invasion of Magumma and The Civil War, and more than many operations as recon. He had walked back to his dormitory, still managing to keep his contacts with the Assassin Order. Pliskin walked in, opening his door revealing two men, one in a visor and one in a military uniform. He grabbed a sword that was hanging on the wall, a display piece, but not tangible 1796 cavalry saber.

"You! And oh, Reinhardt, you've gotten younger."

Pliskin said, in disbelief.

"And Morrision, do you know how hard it is for me to lie about your "death"? I can't handle six or seven students following me around about Overwatch anymore."  
"Chris, I'm sorry. I have only could of asked for more but-"

"I burned everything you left to me and Rytlock. I did everything you asked of me and now what, come back to Overwatch? I'm in an Ivy League school god dammit!"

Pliskin replied to Morrison.

"We've arranged for you to stay at this school, but as a sort of spectre."  
Reinhardt said in his thick German accent.

"Now what, I'm not going to easily cooperate, and where are you going to take me now?"

"First, we're going to send a message to Q, then probably he would inform other living members. Then you and Reinhardt are going to have to recruit new members, we can't have everyone that was in the old Overwatch back."

Morrison said as he booted up Pliskin's computer.

Pliskin then sat down at his desk, his computer fully booted up, he then composed an email to Q stating that Overwatch was back. He thought about it for a moment, then he sent it.

* * *

London, England.

Q was hosting a small gathering at his flat, James and Eve Moneypenny attending. He was on his laptop, looking at current events on Yahoo when an eMail notification came up, directing him to spread the message to anyone that was near the vicinity.

"What now?"

James said to Q.

"Apparently Chris is saying that Overwatch is active again. He wants us to notify anyone else near us at this moment.

"You've got to be joking."

James replied.

"I'll get Tracer, Bond, get the Frye Twins and Sly."

"Whatever you say, Miss Moneypenny."

She grinned at James, getting her coat from the coatrack and heading downstairs into her car. Q had decided to send a text message to Solid Snake, who then called others, spreading the message.

* * *

"Now what?"

"Pack your things, we're heading to New York City by helicopter."

Reinhardt said, tossing him his Ivory Sauer 38H which he previously used in combat.

The three of them covertly left the building, trying to not make any noise in able to reach north-west of Bradfield Hall without triggering any incidents. It was cold too as well, with Pliskin only wearing a navy blue jacket with dark grey cargo slacks, similar to what Sly used to wear. Even in the middle of July it was still freezing cold, the clouds covering the moon and the sound of gushing water crashing down was normal to him. The sound of boots clamoring against the ground echoed as the three ran across the main campus to a grassy plain northwest of the main hall.

"What now?"  
"Look up."

A specifically designated AgustaWestland 101 helicopter suddenly appeared out of the jet black sky, blending in with the sky above silently touched ground near where they held their ground. A black clothed man with an eyepatch over his right eye stepped out of the helicopter, signifying the pilot to shut the engines down.

"You son-of a-!"

Pliskin said in anger, preparing to shoot the man.

"Colonel Reinhardt, Captain Morrison. It was necessary to fake my death, along with Colson's Pliskin, and somehow you'll understand. I'm surprised that you all actually managed to get this far without requesting assistance."

Nick Fury said.

"I want to know something, and I want it now, why are you still standing here?"  
"Nanomachines son, Nanomachines. Those things will help you in any way possible, right Reinhardt?"

Nick Fury replied, with Reinhardt saluting and Pliskin grumbling to himself, putting away his gun.

"Now I all need you to do me a favor, get in the helicopter and we'll continue he conversation midway."

The three of the agreed, stepping into the chopper one by one, Pliskin turned around one more time to see the campus that he was departing, returning to another life after another. He glanced back into the cabin of the chopper, noticing how roomy it was and the red light was the only thing that made the cabin visible. He decided to sit down next to Reinhardt who gave him a pat on the back. He, Reinhardt, Rytlock, Sly and Arno Dorian were all once part of Overwatch's 2nd Blackwatch Unit. He still had great memories working with them, yet he had to lie about the truth, spilling ink over the details of what he saw and what he did.

"We're restarting Overwatch. With The Burning Legion forced back into slumber and the Daedric Princes quelled back into their own planes, terrorist groups have recently sprung up again in the midst of things."

"What about London and WarWolves? What happened to Doctor Jones? What else haven't you told me or have lied to me Fury?"

"I cannot answer that unfortunately, the world's a smaller place now without Overwatch or S.H.I.E.L.D."

Nick Fury replied to Pliskin's spontaneous questions.

"I still can't forgive you for what happened to Quiet and Scarlet Witch. You just left them to die after the Civil War and still you don't give a damm about them both."

Nick Fury defiantly refused to answer Pliskin's comments about him, while Reinhardt silently whispered something into his ears with himself nodding. Morrison had been quiet throughout the helicopter ride, not wanting to get himself involved in what had happened over the past six months. He was grateful enough that the ride wasn't that turbulent or that the cabin had decent lighting but, what the hell.

"Where are you taking me again?"

Pliskin said, questioning once again.

"New York City. New York City."

Morrison replied, breaking the shroud of silence that had been covering him throughout the past journey.

* * *

North Salem, New York

A much younger Solid Snake, or David as he went by now was sleeping in his Quarters at the X-Mansion, grateful enough that Charles Xavier had allowed him, Otacon, Meryl, Johnny and Sunny take up temporary residence before they moved down to Washington D.C. Sunny was still awake to this point and was downstairs playing video games with Kitty Pryde and Logan closely watching them both. She looked up to Kitty as an older sister with Kitty looking to Sunny as a younger one. It was still one A.M where they could hear the faint noise of a helicopter whisk past the mansion and congruently, a knock was heard at the door. Suspicious enough Logan gestured to the both of them that he would open the door, being the first line of defense for the teenagers. He opened the door and standing outside was a suited man, neatly dressed in a charcoal grey, three piece suit with a blue tie.

"Uncle Tony?"

"Hey Sunny!"

Sunny ran up to Tony Stark, giving him a hug.

"Is Solid Snake still living here along with Otacon and Meryl?"

"I'll go get them Tony."

Kitty said to Tony, waving a bit to him.

"Logan, we need to talk."

"It's not about this Overwatch business again right? Like I said before, I moved on. I have a happy life right here right now, you can't break me away from it."

Several moments later, Meryl, Snake and Otacon quickly shuffled down the central staircase and walked into the living room.

"Tony."

"Meryl."

Meryl and Tony embracing for a few moments before all of them began to sit down.

"We need to talk. We want all of you to join a reformed Overwatch."

Snake sighed, after going through age reversal to recode his DNA to reverse his Werner's Syndrome, he now was around his thirties again.

"What do I get out of it ?"

Asked Snake and Logan.

"Answers."

Tony simply responded.

"You'll both get answers to what we know what you're looking for."

The door also opened up, with more people coming in, Q, Moneypenny, Bond, The Frye Twins, Arno and Elise, Sly, Tracer, McCree and Hanzo entered the building.

"You see, we've rebuilt the force already. So shall we begin?"  
"I'll go, but I want to talk about this more in depth later on."

Tony said, signaling for escorts to come in.

Several armed escorts gestured for the group to enter three bulletproof limousines parked outside the mansion. Charles Xavier looked outside from the door with Logan gesturing to him before he closed the door to the limo while Charles and Hank McCoy closing the door to the mansion.

"You know Sunny, I don't know what we just got ourselves into now."

"I think this is the dawn of a new beginning to us and to the world Logan."

Sunny said to Logan, pointing to the sunrise that was rising ahead.

* * *

New York City, New York

7 East 10th Street

Temporary Overwatch Headquarters.

"It's seven in the morning."

The helicopter had landed on the roof in what seemingly looked like a normal apartment complex with a small garage located on the back. It wasn't incredibly tall but it was tall that it rose to prominence in the city. The four of them entered a stairway that contained ten floors before it went to ground floor. At the same time the group entered the elevator, three limos parked near the building and out came sixteen people who glared at awe at the New York skyline with the Empire State Building and Stark Tower dotting the sky. Reinhardt, Morrison, Pliskin and Nick exited the elevator and entered a room with multiple desks and doors leading to other rooms. A handful of people were busy at work in the main atrium.

"Welcome to the new Overwatch."

Nick Fury said, before walking into a room on his left.

"We recently dug new tunnels underneath New York for the sole purpose of rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D, yet when Overwatch was destroyed we decided to use these tunnels as a temporary headquarters for Overwatch."

"This looks vaguely similar to the tunnels I've seen at the new MI6 headquarters Fury."

Reinhardt said while following Nick down a series of stairs that lead to an office room with about twenty chairs or so.

"Now if you'd excuse me, I have some business to attend to above ground with some other people that you have yet to reunite or be acquainted with. In the meantime, General Thaddeus Ross will be taking over as Director of the SHIELD Overwatch Initiative. I take it that they'd have my head on a pike by the time they'd lay eyes on me."

Fury said, walking up a separate staircase in able to ascend to the surface.

"So my friend, how has things gone for you?"

"Nothing much, I'm currently on holiday since it's the summer, however I've elected to stay on the campus. How about you, anything interesting besides actual age reversing like Snake?"

"Nothing much also, I've been going on adventures with Rytlock, Thrall and Edward Kenway, sailing on the Jackdaw makes me sick."

A door opened and along came sixteen people; everyone from Jacob Frye to James Bond was standing in that room in that time.

"Well well. Speak of the devil."

James Bond said, hands crossed in front of his chest.

Everyone in the room was either shaking hands or discussing how their lives had been in the past six months. Sly was shaking hands with Pliskin, James and Moneypenny were talking with Morrison, and Hanzo, Tracer, McCree and Reinhardt formed an "Original Overwatch" group where they were all boasting about adventures during their time away. Coming from a doorway where Nick Fury had recently had exited from Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross appeared, walking firmly to the desk at the head of the twenty chairs lined up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Overwatch. You are now all under government moderation since the moment you walked through that door above."

"Great another registration act? Do licensed thieves like Sly, my sister and I now have to be monitored by every move we take?"

Jacob Frye said, pointing out flaws in the new system.

"Now before we do any major mission briefing or in depth explanations about how the system will work, you will be temporarily be split into four members by five groups into a flat up above."

General Ross addressed to the crowd.

"Welcome to the new and improved Overwatch. Feel free to look around while you're at it."

At long last Overwatch was reborn like the Demons of Razgriz. A new global peacekeeping force that has yet to be reckoned with, this was home. This was Project: Overwatch a new beginning for some, and a way of life for others. Warriors, Vigilantes, Robin Hood Criminals. A constant changing world needed heroes. And they were our answer.

 **To Be Continued** in Chapter 2:

Tactical Strikes.


	2. Tactical Strikes

Chapter Two:

Tactical Strikes

July 2016

Sly's Point of View.

It was some sort of reunion after that, we all went to a tavern that was close by after we were "placed" with our roommates for the sole reason of security. What do they think I am, a "cat burglar"? Anyways, I had to share a room with Pliskin, Reinhardt and Sunny. We all sort of work out as a small family, Sunny is always there when you need her, technology or life issues, Reinhardt always knows how to be a jokester, even in the most inappropriate conversations and Pliskin and I? We handle just fine together as seasoned veterans of the battlefield, even though his singing could use a bit more work on hitting the high notes, and I'm just here hoping that he doesn't become another Don Octavio. We were at the GMT Tavern in Bleecker Street, New York and man, it was a party. There was a new upright piano situated against the wall, and guess what, Evie Frye and her brother Jacob started to play the piano when Jacob began to sing a tune about Maxwell Roth, that businessman who died in a theater fire three months back. And if things wouldn't get more hectic enough, Reinhardt joined in, even after drinking three or four mugs of beer, then Pliskin and Arno joined in, then the entire tavern joined in our little sing along that we started.

After that hustle we all decided to hit Central Park even though it was around eight at night. We all had a fine time discussing how life went on in the past six months in the cool summer breeze of New York. We haven't even seen Wolf London at all in the past three months, even Wolf O'Donnell or Star Lord has managed to contact London according to both McCree and Otacon who had been trying to establish a connection with his manor fifty miles up north from here in Tarrytown. Reinhardt, Sunny, Kitty and Q were all playing with a dog that our "Landlord" keeps as a pet, yet Q doesn't seem to like playing with dogs, since he is overall a cat person and Colonel Reinhardt had managed to get his armor back up in action, making him taller and stronger than the man he already is. I seemed to have made the right choice, even though I was uncertain with it at first.

By the time it was around ten o' clock, the group had decided to retreat to their quarters. With Reinhardt, Sunny, Sly and Pliskin, luckily at the penthouse floor with Q, James, Moneypenny and Morrison sharing the room directly below them. Even at eleven o' clock it still couldn't keep Pliskin and Q from playing and practicing in their favorite MMORPG's and MOBAS late into the night. Everyone was soundly asleep, with the exception of Q and Pliskin of course, however something was wrong with Sunny who was staring out the window with her lights still open in her room.

* * *

"Sunny, what's wrong my friend?"

Reinhardt said.

"Nothing, it's that I'm scared for tomorrow's first mission debriefing, I mean, what if I'm picked for the task? I'm not really that good at field work."

"Sunny my friend, we all feel that feeling in our gut some days, I mean the first time I joined Overwatch, I wasn't really sure about my abilities, but I'm one of their most highly decorated soldiers now. Trust me, you'll be fine."

"Reinhardt, can I tell you something? I'm actually nine, not thirteen; I only do that to fit in with the other guys."

Sunny said in an embarrassed tone, not wanting to be enthusiastic about it.

"Well, that makes you even more unique, I remember that we had people in Overwatch that came from different parts of the world, Charr, Elf, Orc, Wookie and yes, good ol' Winston, wonder where he is now."

Reinhardt replied to Sunny.

"I'm going to go to sleep now, better be paying attention to briefing if I do get selected, Gute Nacht."

Reinhardt said, yawning as he exited Sunny's room, turning off the light.

However things downstairs were much more monotone, Moneypenny was already sleep in her bed and Q well, was on his phone checking on his cats on Neko Atsune while writing fanfiction. He wasn't that good of a writer, just writing whatever he thought of on paper and calling it his "magnum opus" whenever James walked by. Adventures in Paris and Moscow, most of his fanfictions were in reality, heavily edited stories of he and other adventures battles and adventures. His room was much like his flat in London, not too spacious and not too cramped.

"Are you writing fanfiction again Q?"

James said, looking idle at his computer before moving on into his room, the master bedroom.  
"No I am not James!"  
"That's cute."  
James said, giving a rare smirk while he closed the door to his room.

"Interesting, I've always wanted to see events through others eyes. Yet stories like those give ways for shadows to blot out the truths behind reality."

Q looked at Jack Morrison, now known as Solider 76, disheartened for a moment, but now with questions, does media only favor the gold and the glitz in comparison to the ebony and the hollowed diamonds? Was the media simply manipulating events of the old Overwatch in able to present them as the villains in a tragedy written by its so called "writers"? He then went to sleep a few moments later after typing out six hundred more words, thinking about those words Morrison said to him.

The others were either already asleep or exercising in the gym on ground floor. Arno, Elise and The Frye Twins were in one apartment while Otacon, Snake, Meryl and Tracer were in another apartment. It was a very new experience to some however, while some such as Pliskin and Snake had no problem adjusting to it in a matter of hours. Some people were still bewildered that Morrison had survived the assassination attempt with the help of MI6 and Reinhardt, to which Reinhardt boldly proclaimed. Even if this neighborhood was usually crowded, people usually did not mind what was happening underneath or above their heads while walking the dark streets of New York at this time or hour, besides there were plenty of taverns and bars to divert people's attention from what could be described as an "Reformation".

* * *

Temporary Overwatch Headquarters.

8 A.M.

Sly's Point of View.

We were summoned to General Ross' office underground, and boy, walking from the top of a ten story building down to the basement level, only using the stairs was incredible at the time of five minutes in my opinion if you ask me. It was the same old things again, people at their desks, sending out telegraphs, broadcasting fake radio messages, the usual stuff you'd expect from a headquarters. Inside his office, Reinhardt, Pliskin, Moneypenny and Tony were sitting down in waiting for whom they expected to be me.

"Great for all of you to be here on first notice, now all of you will be performing the first Overwatch Tactical Strike in over eight months and we have a target that is relatively close to here."

"Ever heard of Colonel Volgin? Expect him to be here at DeWitt Clinton Park in Hell's Kitchen at around eleven P.M where barely anyone will notice him bringing up four armored cars carrying potential illegal weapons."

General Ross said while pointing to screens displayed on a powerpoint near his desk.

"Your first priority is to make sure that the deal is called off. Second, obtain the weapons so Q Branch can study them or add them to our arsenal. Third, capture anyone involved in the deal or Volgin himself. Any questions?"  
"Sounds simple to me."

"No sir."

Reinhardt and Moneypenny both said.

"Good, now report to Q in the garage nearby. Good luck soldiers."

The group then walked into the garage where Q, in a blazer and slacks was busy working on some sort of exploding pen, presumably for Bond. It was a mess of a place, clutters of papers everywhere, scrapped designs littered the floor and a cache of a variety of weapons was locked in a case to the left of the room, presumably more was hidden along the right wall of the laboratory. It room was arched in particular with lights hanging from the wall in small chains and Reinhardt's armor at the service elevator to the back of the room where it was once said that cars for a crime syndicate would be lowered and stored from that elevator.

"Oh good you came, I was wondering when you showed up."

"Well, we needed all the time we needed to plan the best strategy."  
Tony said in response to Q's sarcastic tone.

"If you would follow me please."

Walking to a cabinet near the entrance to the lab, Q opened one of the many silver cases that lined the shelves and opened one of them, a specific one that was the fourth from the right when entering the room on the second shelf. Flicking a small silver switch, the walls of the lab turned over, revealing an arsenal of weapons and armor ready for any strike team or covert ops unit. Guns ranging from pistols to missile launchers and swords from simple daggers to great two handed swords and warhammers.

"Now you are going to be facing what can be described as "Armed criminals" or more commonly terrorists. The guns here either contain rubber bullets or tranquilizer round and in some cases, actual live rounds. The majority of swords here are as you expect, single or double edged, and if you are asking or will be asking, no we do not carry lightsabers or gravity-hammers."

Q said, acting if he was a tour guide in his own exhibit.

"Sly, please, put that energy sword down; we're under loan from the Covenant's Elites. Now Reinhardt, we've modified your amour to become more flexible and added a flamethrower to your left gauntlet, it's hidden by the way."

Reinhardt walked towards his suit of armor, cleaned and polished once again, looking at it and seeing his reflection in it while stroking his dark blond hair.

"Now Sly, we've added a custom cane sword to your already existing cane, given Bentley's permission to do so, and modified it to included a hidden blade to spring out of it, giving it a bit of a scythe feel to it. And of course, you can use your other cane without the modifications to it."

"Pliskin, I trust that you are used to your Sauer 38H, but you will definitely need a primary weapon to suit your, "resistance" fighting style. I honestly recommend that you either go with the FN F2000 of Belgian design or the Steyr AUG A1 of Austrian origin."

"I'll go with the Steyr Q, the FN looks way too complicated and ugly for me to handle."

Pliskin said, with Q sighing discontent at the reason why he chose one over the other.

"Moneypenny and Tony, I trust that you both are capable with your tech and arms, and Moneypenny, try not to miss."

Q said, smirking as she knew what he meant.

"I'd recommend that you try to improve your marksmanship skills while waiting for evening to arrive, it's only eight thirty, you are going to need to wait around twelve more hours if you are to get in position."

Pliskin decided to try out his new weapon on some targets in the lab that were lit up with lights once he stepped within fifteen meters of the targets, standing at the six meter line. Of the thirty rubber bullets he fired, seventeen made it on the target a decent amount for someone who hasn't been fully train with a weapon like that. Sly congruently was training with holograms generated by a person in a control center like room in up and front of him. Sly swiftly defeated the majority of the holograms with the combination of his martial arts prowess and his cane. With one hologram charging at him, Sly quickly unsheathed his sword from his cane, and sliced through the projection, fading out of view when two other holograms ran towards his position. Sly then tapped the end of his cane on the floor before spinning to confuse the enemy, slicing through them as well with the simulation ending after both of them had been defeated.

After walking back into the lab his hat and his signature navy blue jacket, he noticed that nearly everyone in the room was either watching him or in awe at his abilities. Seeing that his teammates were trying to hide their smirks, Reinhardt had to break the silence by saying,

"You're pretty good."

Q responded, quoting Revolver Ocelot.

* * *

New York City, New York

6 P.M.

The team had to decide when and where they were going to strike, however that couldn't stop them from quickly discussing their plans and a most unconventional area, at an open air café near the park where the targets were to proceed. It was highly non suspicious that armed mercenaries would sit down at a café and talk however, that changed nearly twenty years ago where people became hired guns or swords when the advent of villains and heroes fighting each other became as large-scale in comparison to the days of World War II where heroes such as Captain America fought, now presumed to be deceased. A seven foot knight, two casually dressed people with military vests, a man in a full suit of armor that could fly and a raccoon talking in the middle of the street, now that was a sight to be in awe at. Six months ago, this city was under occupation from Russian Separatists who allied themselves with the Burning Legion and Skull Face along with Boston, Philadelphia and Washington D.C, but was liberated with the cost of some members that belonged to original Overwatch team, Bail Organa, Wolf London and Garona Halforcen were a handful of names that died or went MIA, or Missing in Action.

"You know, I have a lot of memories fighting in the streets with the Barricade Unit, Reinhardt, Rytlock and Thrall here six months ago. "

"Pliskin, or Chris I should say, when you stood there with airstrikes hitting those buildings instead of retreating, you held your ground! You deserved a medal I should say."

Reinhardt said, giving a toast to his fellow brother-in-arms.

"Hey you two. Let's just say that I didn't do anything special in Uptown Manhattan."

Tony said, putting both of his legs on the table.

"Stop it, you didn't take the bloody shot on poor Skull Face did you?"

Moneypenny rebuked, succeeding in putting in her own highlights of the Second Battle of New York.

Their table then howled in laughter, reminiscing about past battles, while other mercenaries and adventurers discussed about their own adventures. After a few more hours, the team left preparing to set up for the interception. Now it was eight o' clock, not that many people were at that park as many tourists were in Midtown Manhattan enjoying the tourist hotspots. Moneypenny was on a roof on 52nd street, directly having a clear view of the street and the park, bare with any civilians.

"Do you see anything yet Moneypenny?"

Sly radioed to her, adjusting his earpiece.

"Sly, I can see you and your ears, so don't try and move your earpiece or else you'll blow our cover."

"Got it."

Sly radioed again, this time with minimal movement.

Reinhardt was in an alley, close to the opposite end of the park in reach of Pliskin who was hidden in the trees to prepare for an ambush. Sly was on a bench near the street that was the route that the arms dealers would take. Tony was up above in the air, stealthily flying around in able to spot out the caravan of vans that were to arrive and Moneypenny, she was up on that roof with a R93 Tactical sniper rifle made for tranquilizing targets. The hours flew by everyone was still in their positions by the time it was eleven o' clock barely anything had gone by or had hardly changed.

"Wait, I'm getting something. That definitively looks like the Colonel, prepare to engage Moneypenny."

Tony radioed, noticing a stealth painted, camouflaged jeep drive down from 12th Avenue to 52nd street. A military dressed man stepped out of the car, waiting for what seemed to be the caravan of arms dealers, with another man stepping out, heavily stylized in black and skulls with two short barreled shotguns in on his hips.

"Is that? No it can't be."

Reinhardt radioed, seemingly in disbelief.

"I can't confirm if it is the Reaper or not, and I can't get any closer at the moment. JARVIS can you run a scan on him for me?"

"Right away sir."

JARVIS replied, beginning a diagnostic with the photographs taken while in flight.

Jet black vans later began to pull up next to the jeep all in order and out came twelve men in total, wearing nothing but simple hoods and carrying simple sub-machine guns. Sly then broke mission procedure unknowingly, he got up and moved opposite to where they were facing, gaining the attention of one of the bodyguards. He began to speak in German, with Reinhardt thankfully translating that he was asking who he was and to show himself.

"Sly! No, stop right there and put your hands up!"

Moneypenny radioed in, with Sly raising his hands up, slowly. Fortunately for him, it was only one guard who was positioned at the end of the last van to guard the weapons stored in there. The guard moved slowly towards him, holding his flashlight he could clearly see the raccoon put his hands up.

"Get on the ground and you will not be shot!"

The guard said in German.

"Take him down."

"With pleasure."

Moneypenny moved in and took the shot, knocking him down, with a loud thud on the floor giving Sly a time to hide in the bushes. Two other guards immediately became suspicious of their fallen comrade, broke off from the rest of the guards and moved to the body, with Moneypenny lining them up in complete darkness. They began to speak in Russian, then in German to wake him up but were failing to.

"Pliskin, smoke them out now."

Gunshots rang out, piercing the air like the howl of a wolf, the flashes of gunfire as luminous stars. Pliskin fired more rubber bullets into the entourage, knocking out a two more guards while another sniper shot tranquilized the other guard who was closing up on Sly, with its silencer removed, the rifle made a signature crack in the air. Reinhardt then charged on another guard, using his rocket thrusters to gain more momentum to knock him into a wall unconscious. More guards were cursing in either Russian or German as another guard fell victim to Moneypenny's rifle. Volgin could only look in disbelief as one of his personal aides shoved him into the jeep before he'd get shot by Pliskin in his right arm, nearly causing electric discharge. Only four more guards and Reaper remained at the park as chaos was silently centered on that area.

"We're going to have fun with this."

Reaper growled before unholstering his dual shotguns from his hips and unleashed it's fury on them.

"Tony, I have a plan, and it's incredibly stereotypical in action. Get down here from chasing Volgin and distract him with Sly so Reinhardt and Moneypenny can take him down."

"Pliskin, that sounds incredibly dangerous and nonviolent. I like that."

Tony radioed in breaking pursuit of Volgin's jeep to help assist Sly and Pliskin with their plan. Sly was holding on his own for quite some time now, his erratic jumping from tree to tree had confused Reaper on where to aim his shotguns, yet made Moneypenny incredibly hard for her to hit him, the only way that she could take the shot if they drew him into her line of fire, which is precisely what Tony and Sly did backing him up into a tree with Pliskin laying down suppressing fire. Reaper kept firing franticly, constantly missing shots that was not intended to harm both Tony or Sly, but at Reinhardt who had finished with the last of the guards, He began to fire quicker, trying to stop him in his tracks and make him think twice, but as level headed as always, he used his rocket boosters to grain more momentum, and swung his hammer at Reaper, who felt noting, nothing at all as he then hit the tree with an incredible amount of blunt force was knocked out cold. There only remain two vans left for the team to return back to HQ with and to compensate for that third vehicle, they had a top priority prisoner.

"By the order of New York Police Law and of a reformed Overwatch and S.H.I.E.L.D. you're under arrest."

Tony said, before grabbing a pair of handcuffs from Pliskin's utility vest. Reaper didn't say anything, he was knocked out cold and couldn't even use Shadow Step while he was unconscious.

"Who wants to drive the van?"

Moneypenny said, looking at both Sly and Pliskin.

"Fine."

Both of them said, rolling their eyes in boredom. Reinhardt had another victory to gloat now, despite cheering to himself much to the amusement of his team.

"Let's load him up into the second van, and make sure that we contact the Brotherhood of Steel about this, shall we?"

Sly said, looking over at Reinhardt.

"Overwatch is back isn't it. Overwatch is back."

 **This so far has been one of the longest chapters I have ever done so far with the current number of words clocking in at around three thousand six hundred eight words!  
**

 **Remember to review and follow this story for some new recruits next chapter!**


	3. Blinded with Science

Chapter Three:

Blinded by Science

July 2016

Temporary Overwatch Headquarters

"First of all, you nearly failed the first primary objective. What did I mean by retaining a degree of stealth operations, Sly? Second of all, you managed to capture a person on the FBI Wanted List. I am in awe."

"The park was only a minor setback sir. Now what are we going to do with the prisoner I ask."

Eve Moneypenny said, the only one in the room besides Sly.

"Well, we can't hand him over to the FBI and we can't transfer him to the helicarrier as that would be too risky."

"General Ross, may I ask why we can't hand him over the FBI?"  
"We are endangering our existence as a freelance organization, and I am the only link here between the U.S Government and Overwatch."

The general replied, disappointed by her comments.

* * *

Both of them walked out of his office back upstairs into their rooms. The team was now allowed to switch out rooms after the reported success of the stealth op. Sunny quickly moved downstairs to Snake, Otacon and Meryl's room while the three men still remain in their apartment. Even after their mission, the three of them still had the strength to play truth or dare at two A.M, with Q who was still on his phone checking Neko Atsune. In reality however, the game had dragged on without anything good coming up, everyone had choose truth instead of dare. Pliskin, still wearing his clothes from his mission, spun the bottle slowly at first so it would land on Q.

"Truth or dare Q."

"One second, dare."

Q said still on his phone in a group chat with Trahearne and Nick Wilde. The room was incredibly silent now as Pliskin had chose Q.

"Dammit."

"I dare you to call Trahearne right now and ask him to give his best Doctor impression."

It wasn't that extreme, at least it had started to build momentum within the groups little game they were playing. Q reluctantly decided to call Trahearne, and put him on speaker without him being informed of what was going on. He was in disbelief at Q calling him this late at night but still continued with the dare.

"Now, uh you know the Doctor right? Can you talk like him for a moment, like for a quick moment?"  
"What the hell mate, are you seriously asking me this, I seriously am questioning your antics at this moment and stop sending me pictures of your cats. Mine are prettier."

Trahearne replied, hanging up the phone abruptly. It was now Q's turn to spin the bottle, he done it with the flick of his wrist, and it broke after falling off the table, hitting the ground now in a dozen or so pieces.

"Well, that ended well. I'm going to sleep now."

Q said, in dismay that the glass broke on the floor, knowing that it was a bad sign of things to come.

He stood up on the roof, bow in hand crouched on the edge of it. He glanced at the moon remorseful with thought of his deceased brother. He regretted many of the things in the past, not being able to defend Overwatch, failing to destroy the Chandelier Rail-Gun, and most of all killing his brother. He loved him dearly but the price of loyalty and family had come with a cost, either his brother or leave the clan in shame. He chose the former, and remembering what his body looked like gave him horrible memories of the past, always trying to run away, trying to hide, that wasn't the life he wanted but Overwatch had liberated him, gave him a sense of belonging. They never found the body of his brother unfortunately, only driving the wedge deeper between his clan and himself. He later jumped down the building, grabbing on the ledges and hanging on to them, shuffling against them until he reached a window, entering it and closing the lights.

The moon did look quite blue, the wolf said to himself, walking the streets of Brooklyn, talking to himself. He was a former detective, working alongside Cole Phelps who was transferred here from LA. He was recently out of a job, no new cases, no conspiracies or interviews for him to give. The only thing asked on his last one was his involvement in S.H.I.E.L.D. ,being labeled as a "Crazed Conspiracy Theorist" by the media, leaving in disgrace as a result. Phelps had decided to retreat to Seattle a while back before the Second Battle of New York, leaving Jack McSullivan on his own for the time being, it began to rain after the apprehension of Reaper and the weapons, not good for the wolf as he only had a navy blue trench coat on without a hood or a cap. He thought about heading up to Boston to get a job with Piper Wright or Nick Valentine, but he had no where ways of transportation there.

Only he could stay in the city and look for jobs, yet a man in a black suit with a black tie in front of him began speaking saying,

"Jack McSullivan, remember me? I heard that you were in need of a job after what happened on T.V."

The man said, hidden in shadow.

"Who, who are you? Do I know you?"  
McSullivan said, stuttering after saying who.

"Do you know something of a project called, Overwatch? We need, heroes per say. People like you."

He said, leaning against the wet brick wall with the street light illuminating the street.

"If you really are in that much of a need for a job, come look us up. The world can use some more good guys."

The man added, tossing him a business card that got wet when it hit the puddle of water.

"So, Overwatch is back? Is Morrison still alive?"

McSullivan gasped, trying to look for the man, finding no one there in the alleyway. HE picked up the card, with the card displaying the words engraved in a gold font, 7 East 10th Street, Manhattan New York. He stared at the card thinking if he should accept this job opportunity and begin anew or keep running away from the inevitable, staring it blankly, deep in thought, rain pouring down on him.

* * *

5 AM

Detention Level

Temporary Overwatch Headquarters

Reaper was sealed in a hexagonal chamber with large glass windows; similar to the one Raoul Silva was imprisoned in. The glass was completely bullet and cannon proof, designed to deny any molecular breaches, including one of Reaper's own abilities. He was still clothed in his night black trench coat with his dual shotguns taken away, his skull helmet covering his face, or if he had one. The room was completely black except for the chamber, acting as a beacon of light in the room. Reinhardt and Tracer, both formerly having encounters with this person were assigned to interrogate him, with Tracer encountering him at a museum in Los Angeles and Reinhardt encountering him in Tokyo. According to his file, it had shown that he had active during the First and Second Battles of New York, with no known pictures of him taken during the conflict. Only a few witness testimonies had been included, verifying his presence.

"Who are you?"

Tracer said, sitting down in a chair placed by security, designated for her. Reaper refused to answer, staring idle at the both of them.

"Reaper, is it, we're not going to harm you, we are just asking you questions that's all. So please, give us a name or any if you do."

Tracer replied, staring at him.

"Talon, they know who you are. All of you."

Reaper said in what could be called as a mechanical voice.

"They have agents everywhere. Volgin Included."

"So what do you know about this "Talon" per say."

Reinhardt said, setting his hammer down next to him.

"I will not betray my brothers and sisters in arms."

"Tell us now. Or face justice up front."

Reinhardt replied, stepping closer to the chamber. Reaper got up, kicking down his sole chair in the process, staring him directly him in the eye.

"You are all fools, fight this valiant way to prove that you are worth something the world again. We know everything in Talon, my brothers and sisters are going to change our society. Society is a hollow body with freedom, rampant with violence and hatred, but with control, it learns how to walk, then it learns how to speak, then it becomes a hive mind."

"That is what Talon is to us, true change through control, whatever the means necessary."

Reaper finished, then turning invisible.

"Where the hell did he go?"

Reinhardt yelled, picking up his hammer, waiting for an alarm to go off.

"He didn't escape, he's still in the chamber but invisible, according to the heat detectors."

A security guard shouted, checking his laptop. Another interrogation attempt failed, first by Bond then Tracer and Reinhardt.

"Tracer, do you really believe that this man is truly Gabriel Reyes? He can't have possibly have survived the detonation!"

"Reinhardt, by Jove, can't you clearly see, he both has the same shotguns Reyes owned, there has to be some sort of connection."

Tracer replied, checking her watch as they both left the Detention Level.

"Well, clearly he did blind me with science. Tracer, shall we take a look at the new recruits?"

"Whatever you say Reinhardt."

* * *

7AM

Several new, or former members that had received the message from Morrison were present in the main office in front of Ross's second in command, Major Zero as he was called. Mercy, the Swiss doctor, Natasha Romanoff, the fearsome Black Widow and Johnny Sasaki, Meryl's husband and leading member of the Rat Patrol were all seated, facing Zero up front awaiting instructions. The room itself was similar to M's office in the new MI6 Headquarters as if the many similarities wouldn't stop there.

"Tracer, Bond, Pliskin, meet our new members. Surely they are no rookie but they are to our organization."

Zero said, looking at all three of them. Tracer gave a brief wave while Bond and Pliskin slightly bowing at them.

"With more and more members joining the organization, we are considering moving to Helicarrier 64 in fact. We cannot dig more tunnels into the city, as people have begun to suspect that a bank robbery is going to take place. Also, please watch the television for a moment if you can.

The television began to play footage of the park with twelve men, the armed guards the team encountered handcuffed on the pavement of the sidewalk. The reporter was interviewing some witnesses, saying that they heard gunshots and saw a huge armored man hit one of those twelve men. Carmelita Fox was also on the scene, speaking with some NYPD Officers and how it was her "specialty".

"Well, people are now beginning to suspect that something is going on in the city, now we trust you if you still can perform these duties until the world is ready for us to make our return to public eye."

Zero said, his head on the desk.

A portal then opened up, revealing two very large figures, an orc and a charr. Another portal emerged, this time a wolf and a human. Mages from Orgrimmar and the Black Citadel must have contacted Overwatch sometime earlier yesterday or today. The orc was tall for his size, the same height as Reinhardt with his armor on, same for the charr. The man's name however was Clint Barton, codenamed Hawkeye by S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd began to explore the worlds now, venturing to Tatooine, Hoth and Corneria as a freelance mercenary, being contacted by remains of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Thrall? Rytlock? Is that really you?"

Pliskin said, seemingly in disbelief. Rytlock then unsheathed Sohothin, the legendary Ascalonian sword, once wielded by Prince Rurik.

"Who did you expect kid, Tybalt Leftpaw?"

Rytlock said, sheathing his sword. Thrall was still clad in his signature Doomhammer armor, ditching the trench-coat style shaman garments he used to wear.

"Now, this was completely unexpected, I am finalizing the move to the Helicarrier immediately as possible, dismissed. "

Zero replied, getting out of the chair, hastily making his way to a telephone.

"So, uh, this is the new S.H.I.E.L.D?"

Hawkeye said, eyes looking all around the office.

"Essentially, we're moving back into the Helicarrier in a few days."

Tracer said, waving at them.

"It is incredible to see Overwatch back in action once again, I firmly do believe that this is our second chance that we deserve."  
Dr. Angela, known as "Mercy" said, in a German accent, but not as thick as Reinhardt's

"So anyone want a tour of what I can assume is going to be a "Watchpoint" I presume?"

James said, gesturing to the new members.

Watchpoints were essentially a fancy way of saying base in these terms. Many of these watchpoints had become desolate and abandoned, prime for junkers and scrappers to make a fortune out there in areas such as Colorado and Siberia. The Gibraltar Watchpoint has lost contact with the New York Watchpoint, essentially sealing some members of the Old Overwatch team in Gibraltar for good with no chance of escaping the country of the facility.

And they said yes, a tour of the former base it was. Only a handful of people were to be selected to stay and guard the waypoint, most likely it was going to be Sunny and Otacon, her father. Three main levels in the basement and ten floors in the complex, it was staring grow on them, filling them with more experiences. Yet as Overwatch began to expand, it's own Headquarters needed to expand, and a Mobile one to be precise, ready to strike at anywhere at any time in the world. The world's increasing need for new heroes was demanding enough, but with rookie and veteran heroes joining the organization in no time, the global peacekeeping force, merged with S.H.I.E.L.D was ready to take on new sinister treats, including a familiar foe that lurks in the shadows for some, and strikes terror into the hearts of civilians, an enemy that is sinister, that caused the near destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D. two years ago.

 **To Be Continued** in Chapter 4: Up all Nighters

 **Reviewing and Following this story is a much appreciated thank you! What "sinister foe" do you think this enemy is?**


	4. Up all Nighters

Chapter Four:

Up all Nighters

July 2016

Arno Dorian's Point of View

Brooklyn Army Terminal

12 A.M.

It was already that late at night, Elise, Jacob, Evie and Snake had to scout the area in preparations for the transfers on the helicarrier, where it is currently docked. This place looked abandoned to Elise and I, it instantly reminded me of the Paris Catacombs where we nearly died fighting Craford Starrick and Germain. There were an incredible amount of railroad tracks that led to this specific building, yet nothing seemed to be out of order as the carrier began to sail to Pier 61. We later returned to the safehouse established at 287 West 70th Street. Everyone was gathered in there, twenty or more people packed into a two floor apartment building. At least people such as Tony Stark and Major Zero got to enjoy their own comfort at their homes. I was amazed that a ship that fast would reach the pier in thirty minutes time to be precise. Elise and I embraced before we were to board the ship in the morning, confident that a new life as adventurers for Overwatch was to begin.

James Bond's Point of View

By three in the morning, the majority of people in the building were either finding a way to stay awake or fall asleep at the same time. I myself was part of the latter. Everything from the lab at the old headquarters had to be moved little by little in able to prevent suspicion that we were transporting mass weapons for an arms dealer. Reinhardt, Pliskin and Thrall were all playing Dungeons and Basilisks, Rytlock and Morrison were discussing the new Overwatch and Tracer, McCree, Mercy and Hanzo were having a small reunion party at a bar on the second floor. I myself, well, I was watching Q on his laptop play a MOBA and lose, making this the first time I've ever seen him loose his cool at any given time. I've always wondered, what happened to Wolf London and Doctor Jones, nobody has seen them in over a year and last time they were spotted was at the Second Battle of New York, disappearing soon after the battle was won. I still continue to wonder if the government had sent them away due to their association with S.H.I.E.L.D, MI6 and Overwatch.

7 A.M.

It was all set in motion; General Ross, Major Zero and Tony Stark were already on board the ship, Major Zero taking control of the ship while Ross had to remain in the States. Moving Reaper's cell into the brig was one of the most complicated procedures performed that day. Highly classified on what methods they had to do, it was forbidden to anyone, including members of the strike force itself. They all were packed into six black vans that arrived a while later, dealing with traffic as well. The ship was restored to its former glory, its propellers propped up against the hull, with visible damage to propeller four, sustained in 2012. Besides its designation as Helicarrier 68, it was rechristened as the _USS Black Cormorant,_ or just _USS Cormorant_ for short.

As they boarded the ship, both Snake and Reinhardt saluted at saluting S.H.I.E.L.D sailors, both wearing their military uniforms from when they were in their respective country's armies. The ship was massive, larger than the _USS Gerald R. Ford_ by four more feet. Its island superstructure resembled the Essex class of World War II. However, renovation of the interior of the ship, there was now less area for crew members, they would again have to split into four and share a room. It felt more of an actual headquarters now than an aircraft carrier for the military. The _Cormorant_ was to first dock at Southampton, England with a small task force of three battleships and two cruisers. Then the fleet would dock at Amsterdam where Overwatch was slated to appear at the G20 Summit.

"Well, she's big for one part, not exactly home away from home but, it feels more of a headquarters to me."

Sly said, eyes focused in the control center.

"This is just amazing. How much did it cost to rebuild the interior from the ground up?"

Jacob asked, Evie looking at him in an annoyed manner. A man quickly walked towards the group and introduced himself, strangely familiar to James.

"Bill, Bill Tanner, welcome. Hello James, how do you like it? Mallory definitely made his investment work out didn't he James?"

The entire island section of the ship was dedicated to this room only, the entire command center. The helm, charts, nearly everything was being stored in this room alone. The armory itself was even larger than the one found in Q's laboratory at the old headquarters, nearly double the size located on the port side. There was nearly all the amenities found on this ship that you would find in a small city, a bar, a library, shooting range, gym just to name a few. The bunks however were located on the middle section of the carrier, running down the first three decks of the ship, the main ones for the Overwatch Team on the first deck below the runway, and bunks for S.H.I.E.L.D on the other two decks. It was specially modified to carry a few more aircraft that a regular _Gerald R. Ford_ class would. The ship was secretly recommisioned by the U.S president, George Hamilton and his vice president George Sears. However barely any planes were in the hangar, twelve to be specific with one of our pilots being Tracer. The ship was set to depart later in the middle of the night.

* * *

8 A.M.

Some members of Overwatch had decided to take a jog around the flight deck to pass the time namely Sly, Tracer, Hawkeye, Pliskin, Reinhardt, McSullivan and a few other pilots stationed on the ship. It was incredibly windy that morning; people came by to look at the ship being easily convinced that it was a new U.S Carrier that was commissioned. Reinhardt, Pliskin, McSullivan weren't the best runners in Overwatch as Reinhardt was their tank, McSullivan usually jogged or took cars to chase and Pliskin really didn't like running, focusing more on his marksmanship skills.

"What's the matter? Too slow?"

Tracer giggled, waving at the four of them.

"Yeah yeah, we'll catch up later."

Pliskin said, catching his breath.

"Hey, uh, you, what's your name?"

McSullivan said, crouching down to rest for a bit.

"Umm… Uh… Albert Genette, I'm a former freelance reporter that joined Overwatch as a journalist."

"Well, welcome to the team my friend!"

Reinhardt said, patting the reporter on the back.

The journalist was wearing a simple blue jogging t-shirt with the Overwatch crest donning his left shoulder. Genette later spoke to us about the numerous interviews he had conducted over the past five years, and was responsible for helping track down former soldiers that had participated in the Moscow Incident four years back in the galley. The galley itself was huge, it had a small bar, and two hundred chairs with fifty tables spread out at the bow of the ship. At the very back of the galley were two pool tables, with barely anyone there except for one Night Elf playing by himself. Reinhardt, McSullivan, Rytlock and Pliskin had decided to break off from the joggers to have a quick lunch to eat. Reinhardt and Rytlock both briefly went to the bar and got themselves beer and whiskey respectively, much to the annoyance of Pliskin and McSullivan.

"You're both going to drink on the job?"

"We've both got high tolerance for alcohol."

Rytlock responded to Pliskin's comments.

"Still both of us need some way to enjoy this voyage, even though I'm not officially "introduced".

"Damm, this bring back memories of five years ago when I was battling Morgus Lethe five years ago with Destiny's Edge. I hated being tied up with a life preserver."

Rytlock said, sighing with embarrassment.

"Well, I'm going to my bunk to rest for the time being, wake me up when we're about the set sail."

"Anytime my friend."

Reinhardt replied, raising his drink to toast to him.

The Warchief of the Horde sat down in one of the many chairs in the command center, preparing to speak with Bill Tanner about being initiated into Overwatch. He thought to himself about the times where the helicarrier had valiantly distinguished itself in the fires of battle during the Magumma Campaign and countless others to count. A plaque was hanging there on the wall displaying ten battle stars, old uniforms and trophies earned by the helicarrier over the past six years. Thrall was amazed at the sight of the display case, glancing over a picture of Snake, Wolf London and himself, dated 2013.

"Warchief Thrall, shall we being your process of being initiated into Overwatch?

"Anytime now Tanner."

"Excellent, now just a small question sir, who is governing Orgrimmar at the moment?"

"If Brongar can mature anytime now, I'm confident enough to believe he took the initiative and is governing the city at this point."  
Thrall responded.

"I'm sorry but, what rank and office does Brongar hold at this moment, it has been a few months since we last met."

"He's a centurion now, being in charge of Military Affairs and such."

"I see now, pardon me but shall we begin?"

* * *

11 P.M.

The ship was unmoored by the dockhands on the pier, it was go time. Inside the command center, Major Zero has just boarded the ship in time to take command of the ship from the second highest ranked officer on board. He ordered the helmsman to put the carrier at half its maximum speed to cruise down the Hudson River. As the majority of everyone besides the crew was asleep, Pliskin had decided to go and see the ship move out of the Hudson. The ship was moving slowly at first, emerging from the pier as a giant, and then blending in with the enshrouding darkness of the night. The lights of midtown Manhattan shone bright like they usually did, however not bright enough to cast a shadow on the _Cormorant_ as it crossed into open sea waters.

Pliskin's Point of View

The smell of salt and the view of a black sky were all that I could see at the moment. The near audible sound of the propellers turning along with the chopping of the sea created an image of peace in my opinion. After seeing the city growing smaller as we sailed into the North Atlantic, I decided to retire myself into our seven by seven foot wide bunks. Reinhardt, Sly, Rytlock and mine were located on C Deck, one deck away from the hangar where we could each hear the sounds of drills and carts moving missiles and bombs from one plane to another. Entering the bunk, which the only method of privacy between the hall and our room was a thin metal door that had to be slid to give us some privacy.

I had the pleasure of sleeping on the bottom bunk. Sly had the one on top of me, while Rytlock slept on the other bottom bunk. I still couldn't go to sleep, perhaps due to the constant rolling of the waves affecting the ship. I considered these people along with a few others my only immediate family, Rytlock had found me those five years ago while I was living in Lion's Arch and personally invited me to join his warband along with Logan Thackeray, which we politely declined to do so. After Destiny's Edge broke up, Logan had helped me move to Stormwind as he had a family friend of the Thackeray's there. I met Sly and Reinhardt a year later when the Eleventh Doctor sent me a letter with information regarding a "treasure" being hidden in Canada, which ultimately lead to the Moscow Incident and the formation of the Original Overwatch.

I decided to summarize myself since I still couldn't sleep. I had dark brown hair and light brown eyes, fair enough in my opinion. I was five foot six, taller than Sly by one inch in fact. I was of average build; nothing special about that but I was great at marksmanship, writing, singing and a bit of historical medieval martial arts, something that both Reinhardt and I wish we still could practice.

I then quickly fell asleep, due to too much over thinking on my part, or perhaps the waves no longer took an effect to me, instead rolling me to sleep.

* * *

Solid Snake's Point of View

A file was given to me earlier this morning by Major Zero, saying it was the documents that General Ross had promised me this week. I was sitting alone in my bunk, with Meryl and Johnny in the galley either playing billiards or having a drink together. They've been married for two years now since the Guns of the Patriots Incident to my surprise. Yet I still can't believe that her husband still always to forget to put safety on when he is in a prolonged state of cover and when to remove safety when he is entering a combat zone. I even had to help the damm kid test fire a fully automatic weapon in the shooting range on Deck D.

The file had many details and information regarding my father, Big Boss and others who were missing in action such as Wolf and Doctor Jones. The first file was extremely simple, stating that both of them were possibly hiding in Central Europe; however Big Boss' file was more intricate to read. It stated that he had multiple run ins with a man named "Gabriel Reyes" the same one that was formerly part of Overwatch six months before it got blown up. Since the Moscow Incident very few pictures of him remained, one in Alaska near Shadow Moses Island in 2014, One in Washington D.C. also in 2014 and another taken at South Africa in 2015.

I felt new in this body of mine, when I had decided to undergo age reversal surgery along with Reinhardt. It had cured my advanced aging and I looked thirty again, along with Reinhardt who got his blonde hair back. The only thing that we could disclose from undergoing this prototype surgery, which was deemed a success, was that it was plastic surgery to prevent the public from knowing. We didn't have closets in our bunks, all of our clothes were under the lowest bunk in small suitcases, and there was little room for personification. We had a small porthole for viewing and for letting air in with a small nightstand that held a lamp to provide lighting. I unfortunately wanted to be on Deck C but we got a bunk on Deck D, but I didn't care as assignments are assignments.

I was smoking a vaper, a much more better way than an actual cigarette according to Otacon and his adoptive daughter. This was all the information that they could gather? I thought to myself, they must have been covering up something. What about Reaper, he obviously knows that something is up, yet every time a guard checks up on him, he doesn't say anything. General Ross and Major Zero in my opinion are fine leaders themselves; yet don't have the capacity to issue anything regarding him.

Albert Genette's Point of View

I'm a war-journalist, to be precise, I was thinking to myself. I've mainly covered the stories of pilots and mechanics on ships and airbases. I have an array of photographs from Razgriz Squadron to WarWolf Squadron's legendary fighter wing consisting of Wolf O'Donnell, Fox McCloud and Wolf London; however no one has seen London since. I was interviewing a mechanic in the hangar; she reluctantly gave me an interview, then slipping away after I took a picture of her, claiming that she had other business to do, maybe because of my bad journalist skills. I was hired to be a secretary due to me keeping intense records on Pilots since the incident in 2012. A metal gear inside the city, airstrikes, and the Russian government nearly imprisoned me due to the fact I had tried to expose what really happened that day.

A man with pointed hair came up to me and said,

"Tough time huh. I know the feeling, I tried to get stories from them and they respond with nothin'. Maybe they're still bitter over what happened six months ago."

He said.

"Albert Genette."

I said.

"Logan Howlett, you can call me Logan or Wolverine if you want."

"Nice to meet you, Logan."

I responded, shaking his hand. Was this the actual Wolverine? I was thinking to myself. I took some photos of him during the Second Battle of New York along with Benjamin Giraud. He later invited me to a drink in the galley. I'm still glad that I made some new acquaintances after being on this ship for only one day.

* * *

6 A.M.

The North Atlantic Ocean

"Sir, we should be approaching the task force in twelve nautical miles sir."

A navigator said, saluting Zero.

"And what about our flight capabilities, how long before they will be fully operational?"

"Sir, two to three weeks. The repair team is working on it at this very moment Sir."

Zero nodded in acceptance, later dismissing the navigator. Running an organization was one large step, but running an entire ship was a larger. He still was undecided about what to deal with Reaper, if he should terminate him or send him to a certain military base in Cuba. He stared out the windows of his office, staring into the heart of the ocean, conflicted about his moral beliefs.

The assassin Jacob Frye was in the galley playing billiards with another crewmember and his sister. He eyed a piano, thinking if he should sing another song like he did in that New York Tavern. His sister glared at him, giving him an evil eye. Jacob reluctantly turned his eyes back to the game at hand.

"You know Jacob, you should always ask before you do something incredibly stupid, such as oh, maybe financially ruining the entire Bank of England in fifteen minutes."  
Evie said in a taunting voice.  
"Shut up, it was for a good reason though. I mean a Templar did try and do that first."

"Says the person who stayed up all night to be the first one on this boat to do so, nearly freeing that prisoner on board."

She said, glaring at him with intrigue.

"You know what he said Evie, he said that his comrades were going to find him soon, I mean this ship was recently refitted to defend against any aerial attack or assault. I think he's mad."

Jacob said, giggling at the thought.

The room was filled with smoke as a Worgen and an Argonian were smoking cigarettes, much like those bars back on the mainland. A loudspeaker the sounded all across the room,

"All members of the Overwatch Strike Unit please report to the main flight deck."

Albert, after hearing this was also instructed by an officer to report to the deck as well to take photographs.

The team then assembled on the deck, some yawning and some standing up firmly when on the intercom for the flight deck boomed,

"Razgriz Two to Cormorant, do you copy. Razgriz Two, permission to land on the _USS Cormorant,_ Helicarrier 68?"

Albert's eyes were shocked at the news, was this the famed Razgriz Squadron that disappeared after the Second Battle of New York? He could only watch in awe as the fighter wing circled around the Helicarrier, waiting to land.

 **To be Continued** in Chapter 5: Dancing with the Angels

 **Hopefully I can have Chapter Five up by tomorrow, Thank you to all who have been reading this fanfiction as I consider it my best work yet.**

 **I hoped that the addition of Ace Combat 5 Characters adds a new view to the story as well.**

 **Remember to Review and Follow this story for more important details involving what happened six months ago to Razgriz Squadron and WarWolf Squadron.**


	5. Dancing With the Angels

Chapter Five:

Dancing With the Angels

July 15th, 2016

 _USS Cormorant, Helicarrier 68_

"Vice president George Sears has recently declared his intentions to create another Metal Gear weapon for the United States Military at Capitol Hill today, provoking protesters to take to the streets. Citizens are claiming that a weapon deterrent will not prevent any terrorist groups from directly attacking the United States."

A news anchor addressed with a stern look in his eyes.

"-claiming that the construction of another Metal Gear will cause another catastrophe similar to the Moscow Incident four years ago."

"The G20 is planning to hold a summit later this month in Berlin, two months earlier than usual. Secruity is also tight at this moment due to terrorist groups declaring their intent to "Rid the world of necessary evils". Now we are going to Piper Wright and Nick Valentine, coming to you from the Potsdamer Platz in Berlin, Germany."

The camera then switched over to a cloudy city with the Bahn Tower in the distance with the noise of two reporters bickering in the background over the translation of the teleprompter.

"No blue, I don't know how to speak German for crying out loud!"

"Sorry about that, Tensions are extremely high here in Berlin where the G20 Summit is expected to take place. Many civilians are worried that an attack might happen with no potential regard to people and organizations such as the Templars, XOF or SPECTRE suddenly appearing out of nowhere."

"The UN has declared these organizations defunct as a result of the Second Battle of New York, despite the people demanding evidence why."

Piper stammered, glaring around everywhere when she said that.

"Now we have a pedestrian that we asked to give us as interview and here's what she had to say."  
The camera then cut to footage a woman sitting down with Piper from an undisclosed location.

"What do you feel about the chances of an attack on Berlin as a whole or on the G20 Summit?

An interviewer asked as she stared at the woman waiting for an answer. The woman had to hesitate and think for a while before she said anything.

"We simply cannot depend on the armed forces for terrorism anymore, if it wasn't for that traitor Nick Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D, Overwatch or the X-Men could have already neutralized the threats to begin with."

"Ma'am, you didn't answer the question, I asked about the chances of a possible attack on the city or the G20 Summit."

"No, I did, and that's what I had to state. Cut the tape please so I can get out of here. HEY Don't do that to me!"

The woman responded, getting up from her chair to do it herself.

"Ma'am, please stop. Ma'am! Get off get off! Cut the tape now!"

* * *

It cut to black, presumably because of the excessive force television crews were now authorized to perform on disgruntled interviewees. All eyes in the galley were glued to one of the many screens inside, with some laughing or some quickly glancing over it. Jack McSullivan was one that was inside the galley at this moment, sitting at the bar. He took another drink of whiskey after taking his eyes of the television, feeling some empathy for the woman who was quickly shut off due to similar results with American News Channels. He remember that one time where he was tackled on the ground by FBI agents who believe he was spreading words of treason during the Second Battle of New York.

He ignored the request for all members of the Overwatch Strike Team to arrive on flight deck, even though his division was Intelligence Gathering and the others were Strike Unit. He was one of few inside the galley at the moment, the majority of people still inside had been in a rush to finish their meals and get to the hangar or better yet the flight deck to see what was going on.

"You're one of those strike team recruits, eh?"  
The bartender asked him, rubbing a dish clean.

"I'm just assigned to intelligence duty within the strike team."

He replied, staring down at his drink.

"That still makes you one of them however."

"Second Lieutenant McSullivan."

"Your presence is formally required on the flight deck."

* * *

The courier spoke, saluting the wolf and walking out of the galley in a rush. The wolf got off his seat, the walked out of the galley, the bartender watching him as he got out. Outside on the flight deck however, four planes with black paint and red markings on their tail signified the "Demons of Razgriz." After the Razgriz Two had radioed the transmission to the bridge, people on the flight deck were either staring in awe or cheering as the squadron made a fly-by in a V-Wing formation before breaking off and continuing to circle around the ship.

"Sir, Captain Andersen! An unknown squadron calling themselves "Razgriz" has asked for permission to land. Sir, permission to deny landing sir?"

The captain was staring at the squadron flying in circles around the ship. He saw the clouds forming the circles above their ship. He'd been stationed on many different naval vessels before and given that he was given a subordinate position on this ship made him even wearier of the "Battles he'd lost."

"Give them permission to land."

"But sir, their an unknown squadron you are breaking procedure-"  
"I've known whom these pilots are. I know how they fight and how they fly. Give them permission to land."

The man looked in disbelief as the captain turned away to look out of the bridge into the great blue sea. He clearly knew that this was a neglecting of duties by the captain.

"Right away sir!"

One by one, the four black planes landed on the carrier's aft landing deck where most crew members were watching and cheering them on. The catapult crew quickly moved into position, rewinding the cable for each plane landing. Razgriz was welcomed with cheers and claps from the flight deck crew, mostly for how renowned they are. Captain Andersen later emerged from the bridge moving past Logan and the Frye Twins to meet Razgriz squadron personally. Genette also accompanied the captain, preparing to take pictures on Andersen's request. Three men and one woman got out of their planes, F/A-18 Super Hornets, meaning that they must have had taken off from a carrier somewhere in the Atlantic.

"Captain Andersen sir!"

The pilot known as Jack Bartlett addressed to him, saluting with the other three members all whom were Second Lieutenants. Hans Grimm, Kei Nagase and Alvin Davenport, all whom were familiar with Captain Andersen and the journalist next to him. The captain however didn't say much to the members only saying that they had much to talk about presumably about WarWolf squadron, presumably about Lt. Colonel Wolf London's disappearance.

"Hey kid, put that thing down will you?"

He addressed to Genette, obviously knowing who he was.

"Captain Bartlett, it's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too kid."

"Bartlett, I have a question for you, what do you know about the WarWolf Squadron?"

"Ask me that later, I have some special duties to attend to Genette."

12 P.M

Hangar Bay

"Well that was something, I didn't know that we were known to have flown with Lt. Colonel London."

Bartlett spoke, watching as mechanics worked and tweaked on a variety of planes.

"I mean come to think of it, he was in a dogfight with an elite Russian pilot during the battle. Even though the plane was shot down, London was not confirmed to have been shot down over the city."

"Well Genette, we can't tell if he's dead or not, personally in my opinion, the legend is dead."

"I think that he may be somewhere out there, maybe hiding out in the Outer Rim."

"Kid, that's got to be a long shot for him to be hiding out that far away."

The captain replied.

* * *

Elsewhere on the ship, Q was working on more weapons in his laboratory. It was larger than the other one in New York however, even though it was situated at the stern of the ship. There were even more weapons stored in this part of the ship with more room allocated for storage. His room got a view of the sea, given that he was head of Q branch. He was inside he bunk sitting at a desk, presumably drawing more blueprints of dispensable cars that Bond would usually destroy on every mission that he'd undertake when he would hear someone knocking at his door.

Opening the door, it was to his surprise that Bond was at his door. Unprepared, he was in shock that no one had alerted him about anyone being sent down there.

"Q, I'm leading several strike members on a mission to Cardiff. Apparently some remnants of HYDRA have taken a warehouse containing high profile weapons that you linked from the botched arms trade back in New York."

"You could have told me earlier Bond. Follow me please."

Q sighed, putting on his cardigan after drinking some coffee from his kitten coffee mug.

"I didn't expect you brought your strike team down here to greet me."

He replied.

He had decided to bring some of the original members of Overwatch for this mission, Tracer, McCree, Reinhardt and Jacob Frye for the mission.

"Well, since you all have come down here on such a short notice, I suppose I have to work quickly. McCree, we've developed a version of the Colt Python specifically for you."

"Made from lighter material and with studier grips to lessen recoil and in addition glowing optics to help with the aim."

Q addressed to him after picking up the revolver from the cabinet.

"Bond, this Walter PPK is encoded to your palm print much like the other one you had in Shanghai and Macau four years ago. This one is different however with the addition of the barrel to shoot both nine millimeter and five forty six NATO rounds as well, given how highly secret working on this project was."

A phone later rang in the laboratory, given it was for Bond.

"Bond, they want you specifically to go check on the prisoner. He says that he wants to join the operation."

"What? He is endangering the safety of my fellow teammates, tell him that I deny the order."  
Bond replied in confusion.

"This is serious, they want you down there now."

"Give me the phone Q. Hello?"

"Commander Bond, we request your presence down in the Brig, the prisoner known as "Reaper" wants in on this operation. He also claims to know information about Big Boss and Wolf London."

Bond hesitated. Should he accept the offer to send the prisoner to him, or should he decline?

"Q, come with me, I'm taking you on this mission as well. Get dressed."

"Bond, you've got to be kidding me, I'm not-"

"Stay here at the moment, Jacob come with me."

Bond ordered, Q still reeling in shock.

Q's Point of View.

I was still in shock. I was never meant for field duty, what am I supposed to wear combat gear? I swear I am going to kill Bond if I do return from this mission. I looked at the combat armors on the wall, then I picked up a bulletproof vest and some green military fatigues in able to blend in.

"Give me a weapon."

I asked Reinhardt after changing into the fatigues and the bulletproof jacket. After I asked him that, Pliskin and Thrall walked into the lab. For somewhat reason, the three of them laughed.

"What? Never saw me in combat fatigues?"

I responded, sighing.

"My friend, you're really thinking of dropping into battle looking like you're in the military? We've already made a name for ourselves back in New York."

Reinhardt said, continuing to laugh.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I've always known Reinhardt to have a larger than life personality, but sometimes his boastfulness and strength usually get the best of him. He may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer but his humor and strength, in and our of his armor, makes up for it.

"Q, you're hopefully going into a stealth mission, not an interception or hostage situation. You need to wear contemporary clothing in able to blend in."

Pliskin told me.

"I wear whatever I want."

"How about you get a M1911 and a 1796 Cavalry Saber just for now Q."

Thrall said, looking at me directly.

The Brig

8 P.M.

The place where Reaper was being held was the exact same room Loki was held in. Inside he was facing away from Bond and Tracer, looking at a black wall.

"You requested us?"

James asked, holding out his gun at him prepared to shoot at any moment.

"I have information regarding Wolf London and Big Boss."

"We're not here to negotiate information. You wanted to join the strike time. May we ask why?"

"I know why SPECTRE and TALON fight this world without end. I offer my services to the organization as the man you once known as Gabriel Reyes."

Reaper spoke, standing up facing both Bond and Tracer.

"And why should we trust you Reaper?"

"Because I was once you and you were once me James."

James continued to hesitate, remembering his spiral of revenge following the death of the previous M. He looked at Reaper and he looked back at him.

"Open the cell door."

James commanded to the guard.

"James, you're really trusting him? He's going to betray us."

"He knows information about two extremely important people, one which was a war criminal, the second which is a symbol of hope for people."

"You're being held accountable for this Bond. If anyone or anything gets harmed on the way it's your fault."

Tracer said, looking at Bond with disgust.

The cell door opened, allowing Reaper the perfect chance to escape, but he didn't. Bond still aimed his weapon at him, uncertain at what he would do. Tracer, get behind him and make sure he doesn't escape."

The three of them then walked to the elevator going up to the flight deck, making sure he didn't escape. The flight deck was cold due to the cold Atlantic air. Many clouds had begun to form on the black, moonless sky with the only thing lighting up the sky was the ship itself. The entire team was assembled on deck, Tracer, McCree, Reinhardt, Jacob Frye, Bond, Reaper and Q. Unfortunately for Pliskin, he was assigned by Major Zero to mentor Q on his first field mission, not counting the Nine Eyes incident last year. A brand new quinjet was on the tarmac waiting to be boarded. Despite doubts that it would be able to hold the weight of Reinhardt's armor, it was specifically said that his armor weighed the same as a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin's Armor and the amount of weight a vertibird could carry was less than half the quinjet could lift. .

Flying the jet was an unknown pilot, call-sign "Garuda". The takeoff procedure began, the sound of the jet engine roaring through everyone's ears. Pliskin now wore a plain black Bomber Jacket, similar to the one Tracer wore. However, he wore a smaller backpack and carried a bowie knife attacked to one of the straps of the backpack. He would have to accompany Q as United Kingdom Forces in able to get past security despite HYDRA having taken over the warehouse, located inside a military installation, presumably sharing the same fate.

Q himself felt nervous, he had never been in the field at least once, not even the Nine Eyes incident could hardly qualify as "field duty." He felt his stomach turn inside out as the jet took off at an accelerated rate, quite different from other civilian jets. He could see the carrier now, glowing in the distance, then he saw more lights coming. Realizing that this was the Task-Force that had been deployed to escort the Helicarrier and seeing the U.S flag on the six ships, the pilot was certain that this was it.

* * *

"Garuda One, Garuda One. Are you the _USS Colorado_? Please Respond."

"Of course this is kid, you're looking at her."

The commander responded.

"This is Admiral Edgar Benson, commander of the Eighth Atlantic Taskforce, consisting of the ships, _USS Colorado_ , _USS New York_ , _USS Arizona, USS Louisville_ and the _USS Shangri-La_."

"Switching you over to the _USS Black Cormorant_ for further assistance."

"It's time to dance with the angels!"

The pilot said, before accelerating the jet to maximum.

"I've always hated flying."

Q responded before the pilot hit the throttle.

The Bridge of the _USS Cormorant_

9 P.M.

"Jack McSullivan. I am going to ask you this simply, you are not under oath to give me the truth. You can lie straight to my face right now and walk away without punishment."

Major Zero calmly asked, staring at McSullivan.

Jack was confused, he had never been asked anything since he had got on board. Was it about his experiences? Did he say something that commanding officers didn't like?

"Where is the Doctor?"

* * *

 **To Be Continued** in Chapter 6: Retracing the Past

 **Review and Follow for more!**


	6. Retracing the Past

Chapter Six:

Retracing the Past

July 16th, 2016

 _USS Cormorant_

He stared at Major Zero, he looked at him with confusion. He didn't know anything worth knowing about the location of the Doctor, so why bring him in? Was it because of his relationship with the Ponds or was it because of Jack Harkness? McSullivan's eyes wandered around the room thinking desperately for a solution. What could he say, could he run away from it this time? He felt scared. Nothing was able to ferry him to safety this time around.

"I don't know sir."  
He responded, looking down at his feet. Zero didn't respond to him thankfully.

"Do you know who the Boss was?"

Zero responded, staring blankly at the wolf's face.

"She always had this love for life, even when it seemed we always made the wrong decisions like the Doctor. She later went mad, obsessed with perfecting the world, and by that completely eradicating all human life with the Halo weapons. That's why we had to kill her before she could leave the planet."

"You're lying. You're bending the truth to set her up as a villain. She only said that in able to destroy the weapons and look what you did, killed a hero only for her to be remembered as a traitor to all life."

McSullivan said, accusing Zero.

"You want to kill the Doctor don't you? That's the sole reason you reassembled Overwatch."

"Actually, he did."

Zero replied, gesturing to the man walking into the room. McSullivan turned around expecting to see a common politician, instead seeing the man who ruined nearly everything.

"You. You traitor!"

McSullivan yelled out, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at the man.

"Mister Fury, your presence was unexpectedly notified on such short notice."

Zero said, closing the door behind Fury with a hidden switch.

"Put the gun down, and talk as if we were civilized men."

Nick Fury added.

He walked to a seat near Major Zero's desk, his eyes wandering the room, noticing how familiar it looked to M's office back in London.

"I still hate you for what you did. You ruined my career. You ruined everything for everyone, and I have the right to pull this trigger on you at this very moment."

The wolf said, holstering the weapon on his belt.

"Have you sent them out yet?"

Fury asked.

"They took more than they should have. Q and Pliskin tagged along as well."

"What about that prisoner, Reaper?"

"He's with them as well."

Zero responded, looking at McSullivan.

"Who's still on the ship?"

"Mercy, Morrison, Evie, Snake, Meryl, Logan and Hanzo to be precise."

McSullivan added, standing up then trying to walk out of the room in a hurry.

"McSullivan, we still have much to talk about."

"I'm done here for now."

Zero then stood up. He aimed a pistol at the wolf's head ready to kill. The wolf then turned around, first looking at Nick, then at Zero. The wolf truly understood what he had gotten himself into now.

"So the team, I trust that they'll be moved to Austria shortly?"

Nick said, looking at Zero.

"That's why I assigned them this mission."

* * *

Somewhere outside of Cardiff, Wales

6 A.M.

Q's Point of View

The jet had barely landed, and once the ramp had opened I was the first to quickly exit it. I felt the urge to vomit due to the tremendous amount of force during the jet ride. The others later followed me onto the ground, Reinhardt giving me a pat on the back.

"Where to now?"

Tracer asked.

"You see that warehouse? That's part of an airfield. There doesn't seem to be anyone posted around here."

Bond said.

Oh good, this would be easy. Take out the man inside the hangar and be done with it.

"Tracer and Jacob, you two scout ahead. Reinhardt, I expect you to lead the charge, am I clear?"

"Yes sir. For honor and glory!"

Reinhardt responded, raising his hammer.

"Pliskin, McCree and Reaper, make sure you three cover us and the tank."

"And Q… Q, Q, Q…"

"What?"

I responded.

"I'm going to give you a gun. It's a MP7 made in Germany. You're going to go in front of Reinhardt's shield and be our pointman."

"What's a pointman?"  
I responded. I was never really good with military terminology besides codenames in the Greek alphabet anyways.

"It's the man that points."

Reinhardt sarcastically said, pointing his finger at me.

"Really Q, You're no Phoenix Wright. You're going to alert us to anyone trying to breach Reinhardt's barrier. You shoot first, got it?"

Well I'd be dammed, my first field mission and I am going to die, such a "Heroic Death" to put it in Reinhardt's words. I thought Pliskin was going to "hold my hand" this entire time by unfortunately not. We walked down a grassy hill, clouds in the sky when I heard the Quinjet take off, now I have no way of aborting the mission now. The airfield was guarded by a single guard post with a wide barbed wire gate keeping anyone from getting in or out. I just stood there at the guard post waiting for something when I heard Bond shout,  
"Is anything wrong?"

"Nothing's here."  
I responded.

"Then go."

Bond said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Reinhardt's Point of View

Q continued to lead us into the base, barely checking our flanks. I could see three hangars all closed on the left of the runway with two warehouses on the opposite side. Logically I guessed that those were coincided to be the main objective. Two men emerged from the closest hangar. James moved up to the front, gesturing for Q to hold still. He aimed down his sights, noticing that both of them were at least eighteen meters away from our position. He later fired, his silencers muffling the sound of the two bullets escaping, hitting both of them with deadly precision.

We were later told to split up and investigate the base, naturally I went up with Pliskin and Q, whom the former was assigned to hold on very tightly. James, McCree and Reaper went to check the hangars while we went to the Warehouse. It was a mad dash to reach the building before anyone knew what the hell was going on. I nodded to Pliskin and he nodded back.

"In three, two, one."

Reinhardt quietly spoke to the both of us.

He activated his rocket boosters, charging across the runway. Pliskin ran as fast as he could, trying to make minimal noise, succeeding as he reached the wall of the warehouse. It was then my turn to run across. I ran trying to avoid the usual sound of boots clamping on the floor as I crossed the runway. I was about to make it where I slided across the floor, scraping my knee.

"Well, that was something."

Pliskin retorted, looking over his shoulder.

We were outside the secondary warehouse, the main one was behind this one. A large door was on the side of it, most likely the one we were supposed to breach. Jacob was on a water tower not too far away, observing the entire scene while I couldn't see Tracer, most likely due to her slipstream powers.

Pliskin covertly opened the door, sliding it as quietly as possible.

"I'll lead us in, there's bound to be people inside and we can't afford to botch the mission."

He gestured to us, taking out his silenced Sauer 38H with ivory grips.

The interior of the warehouse was pitch black, crates filled to the brim with highly classified weapons and technology. The corridors twisted and turned, mind you that this was only the anterior warehouse, the apparent minor one. A light emerged. Reinhardt or Q couldn't tell what the source was coming from; however, the sounds of murmuring and footsteps were faintly audible. They felt warmth; it felt as if the light was fire.

"I'll go in, stay here."

Pliskin commanded.

He crouched silently, brandishing his silenced pistol. The murmuring grew louder with each step he took.

"-the boss would pay us that much for this?"

"This was a former HYDRA base idiot. This one is here to clean it out and ship the weapons to Austria as planned."

There was a khajiit and a brute, the latter being formally known as the jiralhanae. He decided to move in closer, moving from crate to crate to avoid being spotted. He readied his weapon, knowing on orders to remove any hostile threat from this base no matter who they were. He first shot the khajiit, a terrible choice. The brute saw this and grew suspicious of who was around. The creature stood up, growing to be an immense eight feet, around as tall as Reinhardt.

"Who's there? I can smell you from here."

The brute said inquisitively.

Pliskin remained in cover behind the crate, he gestured for Q to come and sneak towards him, Q doing just that. He gestured for him to equip his silencer with his MP7.

"Now that silencer will lower the noise of your gun when shooting it. Aim and kill that brute wandering around."

He commanded.

Q was shaking in fear. He had never killed anyone on a mission before. Should he miss purposely and pass the guilt to someone else? He looked down the sights of the gun, aiming at the head of the brute. He hesitated first before thinking what to do, and then he fired. Two intervals, each spraying three bullets at him, the monster dropping down.

"Good, we can move on."

Pliskin said, commanding both Q and Reinhardt to follow him to the other warehouse. The three of them walked over the bodies, turning on the lights in the warehouse with the help of Q.

"Tracer or Jacob should come on over any moment now, the building's clear."

Q nervously spoke out, filled with tension.

"I'm already 'ere love."

Tracer responded, seeming popping out of nowhere.

"Good, we needed a fourth person to help cover us. Mind being in the front Tracer?"

Reinhardt said while looking at Pliskin.

"Sure thing!"

She responded, vanishing into blue, and then reappearing next to Pliskin.

"Where to next?"

Tracer asked, raising up her pistols.

"Get to the main warehouse, and by the layout of it shown on the jet, it's big. Thankfully you came at the right moment to assist us."

Pliskin told her, aiming down the sights of his gun before holstering it again.

"For honor and glory as always."

Reinhardt replied sarcastically, picking up his great hammer.

* * *

The Hangar Bay

 _USS Cormorant_

7 A.M.

Inside the hangar bay of the Helicarrier however, was in complete disarray. Mechanics were being ordered to turn in all their tools, weapons and equipment to Q's laboratory for "reevaluation" ordered by Major Zero. Some of the crew who personally knew the head of Q branch voiced their unaffectionate opinion on the subject. They were either sent back to their bunks or even worse yet, the brig for anyone who got out of hand.

Albert Genette and Jack McSullivan were only just two of many who had tools of the trade taken away from them.

"Well, there goes my camera again. This is turning up to be Coronado Island all over again."

"You think? When I was part of NYPD everything that had been used in the Second Battle of New York, even my clothes were taken away to prevent anyone from finding out the "truth."

McSullivan said, sitting on the floor staring at the sea.

"So how was it with Major Zero, tense I presume?"

Genette replied.

"Tense is only one word to say. I was threatened at gunpoint by him; you think that is enough to be considered "tense"?"

The wolf said, shuddering at the shock of Zero pulling out a Glock on him.

"Well, I escaped Coronado Island with the help of some special pilots while being shot at by the U.S."

"Wait, that was you?!"  
McSullivan exclaimed.

"Yeah, apparently people believe that the Wardog Squadron wasn't at all shot down that day, which is true since I flew with them that day."

"Hey you two, any idea of what the hell is goin' on here?"

A mechanic asked, confused on what's going on.

"Well, apparently he wants to reevaluate any weapons, tools or equipment in use by Overwatch. He's been acting very erratic lately in my opinion."

McSullivan replied.

More crew members were beginning to form a line at the door leading into Q branch's laboratory. The service was extremely lackluster; there were only eight members out of twenty inside the lab. Optics, magazine, everything in a gun, explosive, turret or even a simple Swiss Army Knife had to be evaluated.

"So, why did you come aboard?"

Genette asked the wolf.

"Well, first of all I needed the money, after I was discharged from NYPD after the Second Battle of New York, I needed a job quick."

"Second, I wanted to be part of something bigger. I didn't want a life that I considered to be nothing."

"Interesting. Well I joined because I was recommended myself. However the man who invited me never revealed himself, he just dropped me a card and told me to come to New York. So I did."

Genette replied to the wolf, both sitting down on some chairs.

"Wait, you've never met the man who formally invited you?"

The wolf asked.

"Yeah, he just dropped me the card with the location of the Helicarrier."

He responded.

The two of them sat silently, both had similar experiences when this person invited them in an eerily similar way.

"Want to head to the galley Genette?"

The journalist nodded his head, saying yes.

"Well, finally if it isn't that lawyer from Los Angeles."

The two of them were in the galley, the only ones except for a few other crew members.

"Renowned law expert and attorney, Phoenix Wright addressed the UN Security Council yesterday about the need of a "superhero organization" much like the Avengers or Overwatch."

"-we can't simply depend on the world's military to defeat a single super villain. Even if you still believe that groups such as SPECTRE and HYDRA are defunct, their remains still lurk the world to this day."

"Mister Wright, I would like you to know that as the United Nations, we have the capacity to eliminate these threats at any time we desire, but due to the lack of information we cannot as this moment."

The wolf and the journalist broke eye contact with the television. Genette ordered a drink along with McSullivan, simple water.

"What do you think about our supposed "organization" now, do you really think we will be ever recognized again?"

Genette asked.

"Well for one part, I believe we'll always operate from the shadows, even if we have a flying aircraft carrier for a base. And where the hell is the rest of the team, I thought they'd be back already."

* * *

Cardiff, Wales

7:54 A.M.

Pliskin's Point of View

We exited through the side doors of the warehouse. Coming up on the main building, I felt extremely nervous about entering the building and encountering more hostiles. We breached the side doors, not making a sound as we entered the pitch black warehouse. We couldn't see anything, wondering if this really an actual munitions storage or a decoy just to trap us. I walked slowly to a crate, trying to pry the lid open, when the crate opened, revealing ten to twelve firearms in it.

"Are those Ak-74's?"

I asked while picking up one.

"By the stock, it is definitely one of them."

Q responded.

I put the gun down back into the crate, not before I tried and opened another one, this time containing M4 carbines.

"I wonder who stores all these weapons 'ere."  
Tracer said, looking up at the roof.

As if on que, the lights turned on revealing a multitude of crates everywhere.

"What the?"

A small circular object was then seen rolling towards us, cylindrical in shape.

"Look out flashbang!"

Reinhardt shouted, hugging the wall as he said that. I ducked behind a crate, Tracer as well. Unfortunately for Q, not knowing how a flashbang works in real life, was stunned and hit his head on the wall, temporary knocking him out. Gunfire soon erupted. I tried to contact Bond but what he had to say was very unsettling. He was under attack as well, as I heard through my radio. I cradled a M4 in my hand, turning of the safety and firing the gun into the mist. As if things wouldn't get more chaotic, someone came charging at me with a cutlass. I fell on the floor, recoiling shock. I slid to Q's unconscious body, removing his sword from his belt. I got up as quickly as possible to parry the man's slash at me. I could feel the air rushing past me as each slash missed me as mine missed his.

Our swords finally clashed. I felt my muscles tensing, I was never good at swordsmanship, so would I be able to wound him in time? I saw Reinhardt enter into a clash with a brute, hammers locking together then I was knocked down, distracted by that scenario taken place. I scrambled for my pistol, hopefully able to shoot the man in the leg. I couldn't see anything, the mist obstructed my vision. When I looked to my right, Q wasn't there. I threw whatever I had at the man as he was running towards me, bolts, nails anything. Then I saw another man, was it Q? Luckily it was. Q strook at the advancing man with a forceful strike, thankfully saving my life. Getting up, I could see Tracer jumping about harassing enemies in corners or ones advancing on our position.

I tossed Q his sword after dueling the man with it.

"Reinhardt! We need to get to the tarmac; Jets should be coming here fast!"

Tracer yelled out, backing herself to the door.

Q and I provided cover fire as Tracer zipped out of the building onto the tarmac where she could he the sound of gunfire coming from the hangar. Reinhardt was still clashing with brutes who had decided to overrun the corridor he was fighting at.

He roared with fury, determined to defeat his opponent, a brute with a gravity hammer. They both locked weapons in combat, neither able to kick each other. Reinhardt activated his rocket boosters, charging the brute and pinning him against the corner.

"Now stay down!"

He roared with such pride and arrogance.

"Come on; get over here before the place will blow!"

Pliskin yelled.

Reinhardt quickly sprinted to the door, bullets ricocheting off his silver armor. They were outside now, smoke rising from one of the hangars. Shouldn't the civilians be notified about what's going on over here? Tracer thought to herself. Unfortunately civilians were misinformed that the place was being used for military drills and other "military" business, presumably from HYDRA.

James, McCree, Jacob and Reaper were running out of the hangar, firing at pursuing soldiers. Reinhardt, Pliskin, Tracer and Q signaled at them with a wave of their hands however, Bond only kept pointing his fingers to the end of the runway, logically the place that they would meet up. They got into a jeep, driving down the runway at maximum speed.

"This is Garuda One, standby for missile launching at hangar two."

The pilot radioed into James' radio.

"No, I repeat do not fire, I repeat do not fire. There is an enemy with an air to air missile!"

James yelled into his mic, unfortunately not being able to send the message in time.

The quinjet fired a missile, hitting the second hangar, shrapnel flying everywhere. The jet was still hovering, trying to spot if the target had been destroyed, a single orc stood up, holding a FGM Javelin, firing at the jet, hitting its weapon bay, sending the jet hurdling to the ground, crashing on the runway. James' jeep crashed into the wreckage of the quinjet, sending everyone in it flying onto the tarmac.

"Shit, what do we do?"

Q yelled, firing his gun at approaching helicopters.

"Get on that damm tank everyone!"

The remainder of everyone got on a Challenger Two main battle tank, Q driving, Tracer sitting in the commander's seat, Pliskin sitting near the machine gun and Reinhardt holding on to the turret for his dear life.

"Drive drive drive!"

Reinhardt yelled, in a panic due to three or four helicopters swarming the perimeter, firing their machine guns at the warehouse. The base was a mess, first they were sent in to clean the base of all remaining hostilities, and then destroy all weapons in the base. Now they had no way of exiting the base, the quinjet was shot down, the planes in the main hangar were locked up tight and the remaining ones were destroyed in the other hangar.

"Well, IT'S A BIT HARD TO CONCENTRATE WHILE BULLETS ARE BEING FIRED AT MY DAMM HEAD AND I'M BEING YELLED AT."

Q yelled, frantically searching for a way to start the tank. Luckily he switched on the power systems, the tank only requiring a few moments to boot and start up.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Reinhardt continued to yell. Q then started to drive forward, helicopters in pursuit.

"How do I shoot from this thing?"

Pliskin shouted.

"It should be working now, try to shoot those soldiers over there!"

He fired a few rounds at some HYDRA soldiers, making them drop their guns and flee in the process.

"Burn those son-of-a-bitches!"

Reinhardt ordered at Pliskin, patting his back in encouragement.

Pliskin aimed down the sights of the machine gun, he turned around at the two helicopters, guns blazing at the tank. He fired at the helicopters, aiming for the cockpit. He shot at one of them, sending one into flames, crashing down behind them and then the second one, exploding then flying right in front of them, ditching in front of the tank, jolting everyone out.

Pliskin's Point of View

Everything was murky at that point. I was just barely able to get myself up where I saw Reinhardt on the floor remove his helmet.

"Well, what the hell now?"

Soldiers came out, aiming their guns at us. Another figure appeared, moving with the smoke. It looked black, slender and hooded. No, it can't be. Reaper had decided to switch sides at the last minute, betraying all of us, exactly what James had expected.

"No not you!"  
"I told you this was a bad idea!"

Reinhardt shouted.

"They three are still alive, like the others. Load them onto the plane."

Reaper commanded, the soldiers nodding their heads in submission.

"I will not go down like this you son-of-a!"

Reinhardt yelled out before being knocked out unconscious.

I could see McCree and Q hands up being escorted onto a C130 Hercules, hands high and up. Where was Tracer, Jacob and James I asked myself. I looked around; he base was in chaos, the ruins of the second hangar smoldering, and the wreckage of the two helicopters being put out. It took at least five men to carry Reinhardt to the plane; I still couldn't believe he held onto his helmet even while unconscious.

"You'll thank me later."

Reaper personally said to me, before knocking me out with the stock of his shotguns. Everything later went black, I couldn't see a thing. I only heard some of the soldiers mentioning something about a mountain base and the names Major Zero and Ernest before I fell unconscious.

The soldiers moved the bodies into the plane, bounding their hands behind their back. The Hercules taxied to the runway, taking off.

 **To Be Continued** in Chapter 7: The View to a Kill

 **After replaying Battlefield 4, I was inspired to write the climatic action scene like Chapter Four!**

 **(I do not own Battlefield 4)**


	7. The View to a Kill, Section One

**I have decided to split this chapter into two parts, due to the amount of content that I had originally wanted to put in, not to mention WonderCon 2016 delaying the chapter.**

 **Anyways, review and follow the story to see what happens next!**

* * *

Chapter Seven:

The View to a Kill

July 16th, 2016

 _USS Cormorant_

10:34 P.M.

"Have they arrived at CMGA?"

He asked, finishing dialing the rotary phone.

"Yes Major, they are safely away in their cells at this very moment. What do you want us to do with the seven?"

"Interrogate them, torture them but not to death. We need to operate as covertly as possible without any major world government noticing."

The major responded, keeping himself under control.

"And what about Doctor Jones and Zarya? What do we do with them at this moment?"

"Kill them. They're no use to our organization as of today. Execute them by guillotine or by the gallows by the next week's end."

He put down the phone and went back to working on documents in his office. He was the only one there, signing documents about the G20 Summit, UN testimonies all of those sort of things. They were bound to hit the channel in a day and Amsterdam in three. The night was particularly moonless; the clouds formed a dense overcast that did exactly cover the moon. The task force that had linked up was trailing not too far between the isolated carrier. The Major was the only one in his office, or so he presumed.

McSullivan was still up at this time of night. He was still wandering the bridge of the ship when he heard this conversation. Who could he be referring to? He asked himself. The quinjet hadn't returned, yet nobody had noticed. He nearly heard the entire conversation between the Major and this man. Was "they" the strike team that was sent earlier this morning? He rushed to Captain Andersen, the only high-ranking officer that would believe him.

"Captain Andersen? Has Garuda One returned to the carrier?"

He asked the captain as he was prepared to head to his quarters for the night.

"We haven't established contact with Garuda One for the entire day McSullivan. They'd either got shot down or were captured."

The captain replied.

"I was overhearing something called CMGA by the Major."

"No, they couldn't have gone there!"

Andersen exclaimed with shock.

"Wait why?"

The wolf asked, confused.

"CMGA, or Cold Mountain Gefangnis Ausfuhrung is a prison in the Austrian Alps near Hittisau. It was set up by the U.S Government following World War II but later abandoned in the ninties."

"Can we start a rescue mission? I think I can rally a few members of the Strike Team to assist."

"No, we need to gather intel on the location first and if they are actually there. Be prepared tomorrow if I summon you or Captain Bartlett. Go tell the others."

Andersen replied.

The wolf saluted, then ran to Deck D where most of the members were in the Galley. It was completely vacated, with the exception of the Strike Team either playing billiards or having a drink at the bar.

"Everyone, we need to talk now."

* * *

Two days later.

July 18th 2016

Somewhere in Austria.

"Wake up! Wake up god dammit!"

Reinhardt said, shaking Pliskin who was still unconscious.

"What happened? Where's everyone?"

He asked.

"We're in Austria. You're in a prison that only contains fifty inmates, including us."

Reinhardt responded bluntly.

"What? Where's Bond, Q, or even Lena?"

"I don't know, Q was sent to another cell after he passed by ours."

Reinhardt wore a black t shirt and grey sweats, Pliskin still wore his bomber jacket from the mission, not being forced to change due to him remaining unconscious. Thankfully due to his jacket, he wasn't cold from the chilling climate inside the cell. He got up onto his feet, walking around the cramped room. There was barely any light coming out from the barred window and the back of the cell and it was deathly silent with the exception of the howling of the wind.

"Holy shit; there are guillotines on the other side of the prison."

Pliskin said, peeking out of the window.

It was snowing heavily outside; he could barely see anything with the exception of the guillotines that stood on the edge of the other prison complex. He wondered why there were four beds in this cell, much like a ship did.

"Reinhardt, ever been here before?"

He asked, facing opposite from Reinhardt.

"In fact, I have. Seven years ago, one of the early missions for the original Overwatch. We scouted the area. We didn't find a thing."

Reinhardt replied, staring into his eyes with strict sense of seriousness.

"Seems like new tenants have occupied the facilitates now."

Then the cell doors opened. A guard threw a body into the room, saying something in German, presumably mocking them. Reinhardt rolled the body to the side, desperately trying to identify who he was.

"Q, is that you? Answer me please!"

Q only wore a simple black prison uniform. His glasses had been taken away from him, making him extremely unrecognizable. He was groaning, he was bruised, he was weakened.

"Talon… They're here."

Q moaned out.

"No, they couldn't have…"

"Pliskin, after we defeated Hydra, Spectre and the Templars, what do you know about their remaining forces?"

"Didn't they spread throughout the galaxy to hide from us?"

Pliskin replied.

"Precisely, now before Jack Morrison was presumed dead, he had leads on an organization called "Talon's Spectres". Do you know who these people are?"

Reinhardt conversed.

"They're Talon's Spectres. How could we have been so blind about an organization banding together to lead one final assault?"

"That museum heist, multiple bank robberies, theft of weapons of mass destruction. It's them."

It all came together. The destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D and Overwatch, no traces of Blofield or Skull Face. It was a view to a kill; they had everyone in their sights before they could take the shot. A shot of revenge. The hour only grew colder with each passing second. Q had passed out after giving them a grizzly recount of being tortured for information he didn't know. Were they next to be tortured? It didn't make sense, a mission that was simple, then weapons, then Hydra remnants came and attack.

The cell door opened up again. Another guard armed with an axe shoved the man into the room where Q was still asleep and Reinhardt and Pliskin were talking. He was hooded, perhaps a member of the Assassin Order? He fell face first onto the floor, cursing at the guard in Russian.

"Who are you?"

Pliskin asked. He responded silently in his native dialect, barely making noise while saying it.

"I'm no one. I've been twisted by this place long enough to lose my identity."

"We need a name."

"Dimitri , or Dima for short."

His face was falling apart. The left side of his face was all wrinkled and his eyes were beginning to look black.

"You look young, how old are you мой друг?"

"Nineteen."

Pliskin responded, looking at him.

"What's your story?"

"The Moscow Incident, four years ago. Me and many others was falsely accused by the Russian Government of taking part of insurgent rebels that seized ten Metal Gear REX's."

"We were sent to various prisons in Siberia. Me? I was the only one sent here."

He walked to the barred window and pointed at the other building.

"I was formerly imprisoned there, until today where they moved me for a person named "James Bond". "

Dima said, turning to face the two of them.

"James is there? How did you know?"

Reinhardt gasped in shock.

"I have eyes and ears everywhere my friend."

"Now, do you three know why you're here?"

He replied. The three of them remained silent, they didn't know why and how they ended up in this place.

"Neither do I. And I've have longed for the day that I could experience the fresh air or the sunlight. Will you help me?"

Dima asked. The two of them knew what he meant; they were breaking out of this prison one way or another. Q would have to be informed later on, still asleep and recovering from his injuries.

"What happened with your friend? Ill or what?"

"Tortured by Talon."

Reinhardt responded.

"I know the reason why now. Why special people get sent here. They want your experiences, and they, they want to hunt your friends for the sake of creating a unified government."

"No shit."

Pliskin replied with a hint of sarcasm.

* * *

 _USS Cormorant_

10:11 A.M.

Logan's Point of View

So let me get this straight. After Overwatch and S.H.I.E.L.D was infiltrated from the inside and destroyed, we were also infiltrated, by Major Zero. I've always known Zero to be a fanatical devotee to the Boss and her will. Even though she had died and her status as a hero to some yet a traitor to all live on to this day, Zero idolizes her. I was in my bunks, McSullivan wants me to join a rescue mission with Clint, Natasha, Kitty, Genette and Sly to rescue them in what? A god-forsaken mountain prison in the middle of the Austrian Alps? Rytlock and Thrall weren't so happy with this revalation and now, were being watched. Every single step we take, were being watched.

"Now, we have successfully located the prison complex. Thankfully Major Zero hasn't been keeping any tabs on me."

Andersen said, addressing the six of us.

"It is located about twenty miles east of the town of Krumbach. I'm assigning Captain Bartlett to fly you in, with escorts from Razgriz Squadron."

"And are you sure that we're not going to be noticed by flying four jets into a potential terrorist base?"

This seems to be the most far-fetched plan we have ever conducted. We expect the group to have broken out of their cells? How do know for sure? We'd have to leave at dawn tomorrow or else Zero would have us sent to the brig. Also, it's snowing at Austria, even at this time of year, do they really expect us to land in the middle of a blizzard? We're near Southampton, and hopefully we don't dock or else it's lights out for 'em.

* * *

CMGA Prison

Austria

11:36 A.M

Bond's Point of View

I was held in a cell. One bed just for me, nobody else. Solitary confinement I suppose. We arrived by plane two days ago, Pliskin and Jacob were still unconscious by the time we arrived at Landeck. They forced Reinhardt, Tracer and McCree to relinquish their weapons and armor, with Reinhardt not liking it one bit. I had to be escorted to the auxiliary building, being haunted with the sights of five guillotines and the gallows as I walked to my cell. They were moving a prisoner named Dima to another cell with use of the ski lift to connect the two. Both compounds were solid rock, dark and imposing, at least that's what I had heard from M.

It's been two damm days since we've arrived. It's nothing but a blizzard out here. I can barely see anything and the cold constantly bites at me. I only had a small window to see the other complex, connected by a ski lift going across to it, and another going down to the bottom of the mountain. A guard opened the cell, saying that someone extremely important wanted me. Who would it be, the overseer of the complex? I was only wearing the standard prison uniform, black with navy blue pants. There was a long hallway, completely opened to the cold air outside. The guillotines were on the platform below along with the gallows. The sight of them filled my head with terror, fearful of my own demise.

I entered a room, extremely modern in my opinion, warm to say the least. The two guards that escorted me the left me be, closing and locking the door behind me. I wandered the room looking for a place to sit, if that is what they were intending for me to do. I sat near the fireplace, extending my hands to warm myself and my body.

"Good morning Mister Bond."

Someone spoke.

"It's a pleasure as always to have you staying here, sorry for the inhospitable conditions of your cell earlier. Come have a drink from there."

I saw three wine bottles, all whom were unopened.

"Pomerol 1922?"

I asked myself, opening it and pouring it into a glass.

"I should have known better, expecting you to arrive here all of a sudden."

"Let us skip the formalities; my name is Ernst Stravo Blofield."

Blofield said, extending his hand to shake Bond's

"No need for you to introduce your name, Mister Bond. Come; let us talk for a moment."

Blofield? The leader of SPECTRE, here talking to me at this very moment? I'd be dammed, S.H.I.E.L.D thought he was dead.

"Mister Bond, what do you know about jellyfish?"

"Jellyfish? Well, they are cnidarians, use stinging cells-"

"Stinging Cells, Mister Bond. It attacks at the center, much like how SPECTRE operated."

Blofield spoke, smoking a cigar.

"Spectre faded into obscurity, now we reemerged as Talon's Spectres, an international terrorist Organization dealing with-"

"Counter intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, Extortion, all sorts of things associated with the lowest scum."

Bond responded, smirking.

"Precisely."

* * *

Dima, Reinhardt and Pliskin were in their cell, waiting for a precise moment for a guard to walk near them. Everything was set into motion; they would knock out a guard, steal his keys and free the others, causing a prison riot to distract the majority of the guards.

"How does the rest of your plan go again?"

Reinhardt asked.

"Well, after that we link up with your fellow comrades and get your weapons and armor, and then we exit through this building and take the ski lift to the other complex, hopefully stealing a vertibird and escaping to the nearest German or Austrian city."

"I swear, you are mad."

Pliskin replied.

"It's natural, wait here comes another guard!"

The three of them tried to act as natural as they could, Reinhardt leaning against the prison bars. He tried to not look at the guard, trying to give the element of surprise. He quickly turn around and punched the guard across the chin, knocking him out cold and grabbing his keys.

"Good, now we grab your comrades."

Reinhardt quickly carried the sleeping Q after unlocking the cell. The corridor was dark, the continuous sound of howling wind blowing through their ears.

"I may be mad, but not as mad as that archaeologist on the second level."

"Archaeologist? Do you know his or her name?"

Pliskin asked, initially surprised.

"Uh, can't remember, Jones I believe."

"Doctor Jones? Where is he? We need to find him."

"I don't know, when we release all the prisoners, he'll probably make his way out."

Dima insisted.

"Q, I know you can't hear me but, you're pretty light. In weight I mean."

"You think?"

Q responded, yawning as he woke up.

"Come, we've got to go, now!"

"Reinhardt, I still can't feel my legs, you're going to have to carry me out of here."

Q groaned, trying to stretch and feel his legs.

The four of them walked as quickly as they could, minimizing any potential noise that they would make. Dima had taken the guard's silenced gun and baton, acting as their pointman. There was a staircase to the right of the corridor, filled with empty cells, perhaps this cell wasn't as heavily guarded as it was reported to be. Turning up to the second level of the prison was an entire different story. The main corridor of this level had one long pathway revealing the exit and the guard station that housed all the controls for both complexes.

Dima did not have any time to plan this section of the escape out, he knew that he had to wait for a miracle or "Leeroy Jenkins" it. If it wasn't for a former member of Overwatch, namely Zarya, the four of them would have been dead. Dima then yelled something in Russian, Zarya responding as well.

"She's on our side. Come, let's move."

"We're about to move out and board the ski lift, fortunately some of my old comrades from Overwatch had assisted me in the escape."

"Get you arms and armor. We're moving out soon."

 **To be Continued** in Chapter Eight: The View to a Kill, Section Two


	8. The View to a Kill, Section Two

Chapter 7.5:

The View to a Kill

Section Two:

July 18th, 2016

CMGA Prison,

Austria.

The steel door churned as they assaulted the controls, the guards pulling out several submachine guns to fire on the group with multiple bullets ricocheting against the solid barricade. The guard's guns were set ablaze, a hail of gunfire unleashed on the heroes. Reinhardt was able to deploy his shield, despite a few sparks and technical issues arising after a few seconds after it displayed. Pliskin and Q fired their weapons in response, Pliskin able to safely fire his gun at the parka-donned goons, the bodies falling to the floor like dominoes. Q however was a bit encumbered due to the loss of movement and mobility since his legs were injured; a pistol and his hand inching over a pile of ammo crates, luckily protected by a metal encasement.

Zarya also was aggressively assaulting the control center, more of Blofield's minions kicking down a side door in the corridor to outflank them, but the bodybuilder predicted their movements; a quick energy beam zapping the four henchmen into dust. The Russian cackled madly as she fired another energy bolt at the control center, the remaining guards taking cover in it blasted to high hell as the room exploded, the warm and hot sensation of fire spreading throughout the room.

No one could have survived that blast, and it was certainly so when the five dispersed to clear the area, Reinhardt holding up his first to let the others know that no one remained, Pliskin and Dima doing the same once they checked the eastern and western parts of the corridor. Q was the one who was carried into the scorched remains of the control room, a wide array of buttons, levers, radios, and all other sorts of gadgets and gizmos melted and burnt. He piled through whatever was left of the control panel, hoping to find the exact button that would bust open the door and set them free. His fingers ran across the cooling metal, the panel still heated from the explosion as he rubbed some of the soot away on a particular spot, the central quadrant of the controls showing one big red button that looked as if it came from a nuclear launch facility.

"The hell does this do?"

Q asked as he began to fiddle around with his fingers, anxious and worried as to the nature of the button presented.

"I dunno. Press it if you wish to find out."

Zarya responded, laying the energy cannon beside her as she stood behind the incapacitated Q. Reinhardt, Pliskin, and Dima soon followed, their eyes set on the circular red thing that was left of the panel.

"I zhink zhat the only way to find out is to press it Q."

Reinhardt muttered as he placed his armored hands on Q's back.

"You're right. Though nearly everything got destroyed, it's the only chance we got at escaping this damned facility before reinforcements come. Is everyone ready then? I'm going to do it."

Q turned to face everyone, their faces silently waiting for Q to press the button. His fingers we shuddering; the pale, cold temperature of the blind corridor and the anxiety of what was to come next if he was to press it filling the Quartermaster's mind with anxiety. With his frozen index finger, he pressed the red button. Everything went deathly silent as nothing could be heard for the next few seconds. It was almost like one of those horror movies, a creature or enemy silently stalking the group from the shadows. The opposite happened, as a blaring siren played overheard, red lights flashing everywhere as the door began to open.

The rush of cold air swooped inside the hallway as the first traces of light began to shine through the hallway, the bright light canceling out the red sirens blaring inside. The group walked out as a speaker called out a chilling message; the button had only started a twenty-minute countdown, something that caused great alarmed for the five just barely walking out onto the snowy tarmac.

Smoke filled everyone's noses as they laid their eyes on the scene in front of them: jets blaring up in the sky, explosions happening every two to three seconds in an incessant barrage of missiles and bombs. It was war. Reinhardt's jaw dropped as he saw four F-14's rush by him and the others, dust and snow piling up on his armor. A red demon on their tails, black paint, and V formation only gave him the necessary clues to piece together who came to their aid: Razgriz Squadron.

The German let loose a bellowing cheer as he saw the jets whiz by for another attack run, as explosions howled in the chilly wind. The five continued to look in awe as the jets did loops, twists, and rolls in the sky, the roar of the jet's cannon's instantly shredding a vertibird in two, followed by the expected, "boom" that always came after a target was hit in the distance. But they couldn't just stand there and wait to become fresh meat for any escaping guards that would certainly come and hunt them down, they had to escape.

"Where the hell is Bond? Or McCree, or Reaper?"

"I dunno Pliskin! Just focus on escaping."

Reinhardt responded, using his armor's jets to charge at an advancing enemy that looked like it was a Krogan. As they dashed towards one of the ski tramways, one of the jets faced directly at the five people cramming into the black tram, the pilot and their plane firing a quick burst of bullets at the prison's entrance and the rocks above it. It managed to pull up in time before another large explosion rocked the complex, a blazing column of fire rushing out as the rocks up above went crashing in front of the open door, soldiers attempting to run out either crushed or trapped behind in the wall of fire that had no way of escaping due to the stones barricading the entrance.

As the tram continued whirring and inching up the cables, Pliskin couldn't help but notice that they were instead going up the mountain instead of going down to the base of the mountain. The full devastation of the Razgriz visible to everyone below as it appeared to be a warzone raging below; tanks and trucks on fire with soldiers either running for their life or fruitlessly shooting at the jets, powerless to do anything.

"Dima? Q? Reinhardt? Why are we going up the mountain instead of going down?"

Pliskin asked.

"There's two complexes, that was Complex A. We're heading into the second one, or Complex B. Zhis is where the high profile prisoners are held, maybe we'll find your Reaper and McCree hiding amongst the chaos over there."

Zarya replied, his face and pink hair turned away from Pliskin and Reinhardt.

"If I only had my tablet, I could calculate and start a scan of any enemies in our direction. Might as well call for a distress signal too while we're at it."

Q said, his body still shivering from the freezing temperatures. The tram stopped for a moment, the carriage stuck on the cable in the direct center of the tramway. The wind was powerful enough to cause the entire box to rock side to side, the creaking noises not making the trip even more death-defying. The group could hear the gears churn against the cables, evident that the tramway wasn't the best-maintained skiway out there.

"Why are we stopping?"

Dima turned to look at Pliskin, his scarred face visible to the boy.

"Instead of asking questions, why don't you help out and get this thing going will 'ya?"

"And how the hell am i supposed to do that? Go outside and manually risk my life to kickstart this thing into going again?"

Dima groaned, leaning against the northern side of the tram.

"If this pile of shit didn't have an emergency exit on the bottom and instead placed it on the top, I would make you, but due to the idiotic design of this thing, I'm not going to do so."

That gave Q an idea, seeing how Dima and Zarya were lounging on one side compared to the three others on the other side. He could stand up on his own now, but the use of his feet was extremely limited, considering how hard it was for him to walk from the southern end to the northern end of the vehicle. With the somewhat uneven weight, the ski lift was able to shift forward instead of remaining balanced with Q on the southern end.

"Reinhardt, Pliskin, move over here."

Q commanded, his weary face looking up above as he could continue to hear the wheels grinding against the frozen cables.

"Why should we?"

"Trust me for once please. I know what we can do to get moving again."

Reinhardt shrugged as he moved from bottom to top, the shift of the cable car moving down northward. Pliskin now had to move to the front, though he was reluctant to do so, however Reinhardt did it, so didn't that mean he should also go and shift forward as well? The boy reluctantly obliged, the seventeen-year-old making a mad dash across as the gears started to rev again once the weight was situated on the other side. He breathed a deep exhale, satisfied to note that the entire thing didn't collapse to the bottom of the crevasse. However, he eyed another transport that was coming down on their right, the pull of gravity making it come down at a faster rate than they did since they were the ones climbing up the mountainside. Pliskin could barely see the outlines of white parkas and snow goggles bundled together with submachine guns pointed at their tram, but in the split second, their tram stopped, much like how their tram ground to a halt seconds before.

Pliskin saw that they were attempting the same tactic that they utilized while rocking the ski lift. Thinking that the goons were going to pepper spray them with bullets, he pulled out his shotgun and opened up the window, the wind making it extremely hard to line up a correct shot from the hundred meters or so from the opposing lift. That's when something unexpected happened.

The ski lift's cable gave way, a groaning snapping sound heard on their right-hand side as the other tram plunged into the canyon below, a blazing ball of fire shooting up into the air. The five instantly rushed to their left as they saw the smoldering ruins of the other tramcar, thankful that it wasn't them that met their ends in the icy canyon below.

It eventually reached the peak of the mountain, the tram grinding to a complete halt. They exited from the car, single file with weapons drawn. What was to be expected as another prison looked like a restaurant, glass windows everywhere as the sun crested over the mountaintop. Walking over to a snow-covered sign, Dima wiped away the snow obscuring it, only for it to reveal that this was called Piz Gloria.

"Piz Gloria? How does one come up with that name anyway?"  
Dima asked as he showed the others the sign.

"Piz Gloria, that sounds familiar considering that- Oh my,"

Q paused as he walked up to see the sign with his own eyes.

"That this is a Spectre hideout."

Zarya groaned as she leaned against the sign pole, uninterested in what history the place had to offer as she was preoccupied with leaving and escaping the prison.

"Yes, of course this is a Spectre outpost, what else could you want this to be? The Dragon Isles? Find a way to radio us for help."

"Do you think we can contact one of the jets for help?"

Pliskin responded as he began to comb the area for anything he could use or contact the squadron making their rounds around the complex. He dug through the snow with his bare hands, attempting to find anything that would be useful to message the jets for help, but to no avail. Everything was either buried too deep or didn't work at all. Nearly everything there was unsalvageable, However, Pliskin turned to face the tram again, seeing there was a telephone post situated directly in front of the idle car.

"Hey! Anyone of you think that I can directly call Razgriz Squadron?"

Zarya was the first one to laugh that off, knowing full well that a plane couldn't have a custom fitted telephone shoehorned in as a modification. Dima as well, considering how much he didn't care for calling or begging for help. Q though was optimistic enough that they might as well try, reading out a number with the digits: 485-621-3405, claiming that the commander of the squadron had given that number a few months prior.

Pliskin was the one to punch those numbers in, though twice since the first time he did so elicit no audible response, though the second one did generate something more hopeful.

"This is Captain Bartlett, how may I help you?"

The captain said amidst the roar of his jet engine.

"Yes this is Lieutenant Pliskin Hall of Overwatch, we request aid to pick us up from the location known as 'Piz Gloria'. I repeat, requesting a manual pick up and aid from the location, 'Piz Gloria".

What followed next was an abrupt silence, the grumble of the Vulcan cannons roaring away as a strange dial of buzzing sounds became audible in the telephone.

"Roger that."

Was what Pliskin received in return, albeit confusing and random. He cut the ile soon after, placing the phone back in the frosty holder it was settled in. He sighed deeply, eyes wandering around as if he had done something wrong. Pliskin thought that this was his fault, considering that a "Roger that" was the only thing he was able to make out and receive, thinking that no help was to come.

Reinhardt walked aside him, helping him up as he reassured that his attempt was valiant enough. Zarya and Dima, however, had decided to walk up to the front gates of the complex and attempted to open the thing up, but like Pliskin, it was to no avail. They were not forced to wait outside in the cold, marooned on a mountaintop with no way down or out. As they walked down to meet the other three, a sudden thud echoed through the chilly mountaintop, Zarya and Dima noticing that the door was attempting to break open. Pliskin, Reinhardt and Q caught sight of that, and rushed to assist with opening the barrier, however, Zarya was quick to stop them, holding her energy cannon to deter them from doing anything more from forcing open the door.

"I can't trust you with that."

Zarya muttered, her gun pointed directly at Reinhardt's face.

"But why? Ve're going to open the damn thing so we can escape!"

"What if it's the enemy Reinhardt? You can't trust if it's your McCree, Reaper, Bond, and Tracer if you don't know if it's them."

Zarya responded as she continued holding them at gunpoint,

"Hey-y! Open this thing up!"

A muffled voice said, banging their body against the door.

"We're going to do it."

Reinhardt proclaimed, pushing her cannon away. Zarya instead picked the thing back up; the fifty-pound gun barely intimidating the armored German.

"No!"

She demanded, charging the thing up to fire a fatal energy bolt. However, Reinhardt was able to pull the door away, managing to use it as a shield as she shot a blast from the Tesla cannon, the round grazing the metal as four figures popped out from inside.

"You might want to run. Or fight."

The figure responded.

"Bond! How the hell do you end up here?"

Reinhardt asked as he helped the person up.

"Long story short, McCree, Reaper, and I managed to escape Blofield. Tracer is setting up the last of the explosives and she'll be out. Don't know if she's the one that triggered all of the remaining guards here in the facility."

"No time to talk! We got incoming!"

Pliskin shouted as a helicopter began dropping snow-outfitted soldiers onto the main courtyard of the facility. The quick rappelling making the usual easy targets harder for all of them to shoot at as the guards fell either off of the rope and into the abyss or onto the snow, their blood tainting the pristine snow.

"Damn! How much are they unloading?"

"Quick talking boy and start shooting! I'm repositioning!"

Reaper muttered as he shadow stepped onto a mountain ledge, his two shotguns firing away at the soldiers jumping down from the chopper. McCree and James were armed with nothing but pistols and revolvers, but that made the process of shooting the propellers easier than shooting at it with a machine gun or submachine gun; two to three shots later and the thing was hurling down in smoke, the rest of the soldiers managing to bail out of the craft in time before it crashed into the mountainside, Reaper once again positioning himself so he wouldn't get caught in the explosion.

Another helicopter zoomed in to deploy more troops, the ghastly black stealth chopper unloading what appeared to be a multitude of soldiers pouring out onto the front courtyard. McCree was able to throw a stun grenade at the helicopter, momentarily giving them time to pick off the soldiers that either fell out onto the floor or staggered out of the helicopter door. Reinhardt deployed his shield, Zarya firing another energy beam at the chopper to send it crashing again to the bottom of the canyon. However, this was a high-tech stealth helicopter with all of those state of the art features that one would expect from a top of the line weapon. As the unloading door closed and right before the energy beam hit the cockpit, the helicopter swayed to the side, Zarya's energy beam colliding against the Ski cables causing the wires to melt and detach from the mountainside.

"How many are they sending to kill us!"  
Pliskin cried out as a hail of gunfire zipped past their heads, either colliding harmlessly against Reinhardt's shield or embedded against a stone wall. The F-14s were still circling around the base, the lead plane slightly banking left to see what was going on down on the western side as the four dived sequentially into the canyon. Performing a maneuver would be catastrophic in the confined spaces of the trench. The black planes hit the throttle to the maximum, instantly causing the afterburner to engage while zipping out of the confines of the canyon, the sonic boom bursting and shattering the remnants of glass at the complex. Captain Bartlett's plane instantly going into a high climb while turning around to face the chaotic courtyard mayhem.

"Get in! He's firing a missile at us!"

Dima shouted as he retreated back into the stone citadel.

"You're right, he's taking out the chopper! Everyone run!"

McCree added as the roar of the F-14's Vulcan cannon's tore an emerging helicopter to shreds, following the sudden burst of a missile aiming directly at the stealth helicopter, the missile's heat sensory detecting a soldier that was unfortunate to get caught in the blast that sent the entire thing flying and crashing down into the canyon.

Reinhardt was the last one to enter, considering that he was the biggest one out there. His shield deployed once again to prevent the flames from scorching them all, the fires and smoke instantly dissipating into harmless particles that couldn't reach them.

Piz Gloria's interior was ruined per say, considering all the damage that had been done in the recent attack on the facility. What was to be an homage to the stylistic and exaggerated nature of the 60's was only a crude travesty, the colors saturated in black in white, the paint design splattered with varying dots of different sizes, as if it was Rorschach's face carelessly painted across. The glass surrounded the floor as the group walked around, crunching noises with each step they took around the circular foyer. The entire complex was surprisingly small, considering that it only had one hallway leading into the banquet room, an elongated table with 13 chairs evenly distributed banked by destroyed windows with a single lounging chair and fireplace among the only other pieces of furniture arranged in the room.

The group walked along the hallway, five doors with two on the left and three on the right open, the others peering into all of them seeing how many guards lay dead inside the hotel-like condiments. It appeared evident that this was where Bond, McCree, Tracer, and Reaper were imprisoned in, the rooms better furnished than the ones Dima, Pliskin, Reinhardt, Q, and Zarya were subject to. There was one locked door however, and considering the people that were selected for this place, it was assumed that this was for Q.

They approached the main hall, stone exterior and a vaulted ceiling that had an angle to it, allowing for the construction of windows that were elongated and wide, letting in a tremendous amount of sun as well as offering one a view of the skiway and the opposite prison complex. However, with the sun now at midday and the opposite complex set ablaze, it made for a distressing sight, almost like Moscow four years prior.

"So this is where they were holding you all out huh?"

"Affirmative. Don't ask me if you want to know the whole picture. Bond knows what the hell is going on more than me."

Reaper said, turning his head towards James.

"So you want to know what went down here then?"

"If it makes me know how the hell I escaped then."

Dima replied.

"Then take a seat and be prepared for twenty minutes of nonstop talking."

James and Dima took their seats, followed by the rest. Everyone was spread out as they gathered to listen to James' explanation of everything. He began by explaining that this was a covert counter-operation enacted by Blofield and what he dubbed his reformed Talon slash Spectre. Using the heads of Talon, dubbing them the Talon's Spectres, they would snuff out any remaining Overwatch or Shield members still left across the galaxy. However, with the hasty reformation of both, it caused for massive concern, but with nearly a quarter of Overwatch members on the Cormorant, it made for the perfect opportunity to capture most of them with one divisive maneuver, leading to the red-herring operation planted by Talon at Cardiff to lure the members into a trap.

Dima however, was reluctant to hear what James had to say and offered his tale at the prison. The Russian claimed that he was imprisoned since 2012. Though after serving with the Russian Military during the Moscow incident, Talon took him capture covertly, instead imprisoning inside a reconstructed prison for the next four years. Zarya also offered how she got in, considering that she was a vocal opponent of the Separatists and other Talon affiliated organizations, they too were quick to snuff her out. Considering that she was also very anti-omnic and did not want another Omnic War, Spectre sought to use her as a key pawn in working for Talon's Spectres.

Pliskin considered it a mouthful to take in, and instantly got up from his seat, along with Reinhardt to wander around the room. There were multiple obsidian pillars placed across the room, a distinct Talon architectural feature littered amongst their bases. Among closer inspection of the pillars, both Reinhardt and Pliskin could hear some faint buzzing amongst the stone enhanced.

"Tracer must have planted her explosives in these. Wonder how hard it was to set it in there."

Pliskin asked while looking at the other pillars built around the room.

"I think that's the purpose of planting them inside, causes the place to collapse in on itself."

"Ja! I zhink that's zhe entire purpose of it! But considering zhat Tracer isn't here, I vonder where she could be…"

Reinhardt responded as he continued marching around the room, peering at all of the stones and pulse bombs she could have implemented in.

"What do we do now? Sit here and do nothing?"

"I'd suggest we'd sit here and wait for rescue now, considering that we're under siege."

Reaper added, looking at Zarya.

"I also wonder how them jets are still gonna cover our flanks. How much fuel do ya'll think they can operate on? Like, two or three hours maybe? That's just my guess."

"But now McCree, I suggest we hold on tight. I got this pocket signal thing. Damn bugger only decided to work just now."

James held the small radio device in the palm of his hand, much to Q's delight considering that Bond actually did use his inventions. There was a red light that emitted from the device, showing that the transmitter had been activated.

"Now all we have to do is wait."

* * *

July 18th, 2016

USS Cormorant

12:27 P.M. BST.

"Major Zero, I think we found 'em. Somewhere in Western Austria near the border of Germany."

"Disregard that Corporal Kraram. We already got them."

The Sangheili looked in awe of what the Major had to say to him.

"But sir, those are the Overwatch agents that have been missing for two, three days now sir? It even says that they're using James' tracking radio."

"We won't need to track them anymore, just cancel out the request Corporal."

The major said as he left the communications deck. Everyone's eyes were set on the Major as he left the room, the clamoring of the Overwatch Communications Department all muttering in response. Various words were thrown around, claiming that they should instead form a dispatch team to respond to their request. However, not all was in agreement, some raised the issue of the idea of Mutiny on board, which would only show how fragmented and disjointed Overwatch was. Others proposed that they remove Major Zero from his post, instead appointing Andersen as commander of the vessel or Admiral Benson, though he was on another ship.

Elsewhere on the ship laid the other strike members: Rytlock, Sly, Wolverine, Snake, Thrall, and even others such as Elise and Pharah who were teleported onto the ship on the behest of Arno and Jack Morrison respectively. They were all lounging in the quarters, bickering to themselves as the hours went on with no word from Pliskin, Reinhardt, James and the others, and they were all desperate to initiate a rescue mission of their own. They were either playing pool, drawing, reading, or starting small talk, the hours taking a toll on their motivation. It was almost abrupt, the Elite burst into the main quarters, followed by Hawkeye, Natasha, and McSullivan, all dressed in covert stealth uniforms.

"Get to the Hangar Bay. We'll explain later."

The four left the others to discuss amongst themselves, Rytlock the first one to go down with them. Sly and Wolverine following soon after. However, Snake, Arno, and Pharah were hesitant at going with them, stopping briefly at the doorpost to look at the other three left in the room.

"You think we're doing the right thing?"

Snake muttered as he lit a cigarette, fresh tobacco filling the rather stale air.

"Might as well go now."

Thrall responded.

All of them quickly congregated in the hangar bay, present was two quinjets ready for deployment. Sparks dripping down from the wings as mechanics and technicians made last minute adjustments for the jet. Considering that it was pretty vague at everyone gathered there down in the hangar, the majority of crewmembers and soldiers had decided to watch the impromptu briefing. It was almost like the start of the final mission, a group of heroes there to save the day and rescue the others, but considering the current storm brewing, it was safe to say that the ship also needed heroes to stay put and keep things in check.

"Alright, so this is what's going to happen. We've managed to find Pliskin, Reinhardt, McCree and the others somewhere in a remote prison on the Austrian-German border. You may recall that we dispatched the Razgriz Squadron to bombard and eliminate any opposition that the Strike Team could have faced while escaping the damned prison."

The elite announced as the hangar bay erupted into rambunctious cheering. The group gathered there stood in complacency, still looking to the elite as he continued briefing and talking to the team.

"I know, this is quite a shock, but, we as Overwatch Agents, brothers, sisters, alien, orc, human. Refuse to serve under Commander Zero! He has shown no care for the people he has to use to get his way, and with the help of Sergeant-Major McSullivan, we have exposed a plot to stop the reformation of Overwatch. He plans to sabotage both our meeting with the U.N and pick off each remaining strike-team member off one by one here, starting with Reinhardt, Pliskin, and all those stuck in the Talon Prison!"

"And why should we trust you? You're just a communications officer!"

"Because I was the one who picked up the message! From the coordinates forty seven point five six five five five six with longitude seven point one nine four four four four comes James Bond, requesting instant backup and extraction!"

The elite cried out, holding up a digital hologram of the direct latitude and longitude on the map. Everyone began to murmur in agreement, they should send a rescue mission as the majority of them muttered.

"Send them out!"

One person cried.

"We gotta stop Zero then!"

Another soldier roared out.

"Now, do you, as members of Overwatch, no matter if you're on Azeroth, Coruscant, or any other place in the galaxy swear to bring them home? And if you do accept this mission, do you hold ourselves accountable for what goes down there?"

The members there gathered nodded in response.

"Now, Captain Andersen, clear them for take off if you will."

"Roger that. Gulls One and Two you are cleared for takeoff."

The entire hangar bar erupted into cheers as the strike team entered the two quinjets, Rytlock, Sly, Elise, Wolverine, and Natasha in one jet, and Pharah, Thrall, Snake in the other. The elevator holding the two jets were raised up into the flight deck, the members inside strapping themselves to the seats and braced for takeoff. The roar of the afterburners engaged as Gull One was the first to take off, a dwarf in a yellow jacket clearing the first, then the second jet out for takeoff.

Inside the quinjet, they could see the entire naval fleet assembled in the English Channel, battleships, destroyers, and the task force all gathered there to converge on the city of Hamburg. Elsewhere, the pilots could see the red tipped tails of an approaching squadron landing on the helicarrier; the Razgriz as they returned from their aerial bombardment of the prison. Gull One's pilot was able to radio one of the pilots, a feminine voice confirming that they had visuals on them and that they were alive. The pilot nodded in response, as she reclined back and engaged the throttle, the quinjet zipping towards the Austrian mountains.

The groups inside was left to discuss why they were pressured into the rescue mission with Pharah and her group discussing how they were in the right, while Rytlock and his group questioned the very nature of tagging along to go rescue them instead of sending only one. However, that caused Sly to realize that they would transport them directly to the meeting in Hamburg, certainly saving fuel and time from transporting them back to the channel. With the Quinjet already in autopilot mode, it allowed for the group to continue resting for the mission presented, a long way to go down to Austria.

* * *

July 18th, 2016

CMGA Prison,

Austria.

3:37 CEST.

They had waited for two long hours for their rescue to arrive, the fireplace had gone out while the cold continued to rush inside the dismal place. The sun had long been gone, the clouds overtaking the light as the malevolent grey began to flood the sky. The weather was overcast for now, the jets and their contrails only dissipating away following their hasty return to the carrier. Everyone was still asleep by the time three o'clock had rolled around; everyone either curled up on the floor or sitting upright on a chair.

Pliskin was the first one to wake up, his eyes first gazing at the unfurling white curtains blown and ripped apart due to the wind that was rushing through. He was also slightly chilly; wearing his jacket was meaningless in the afternoon storm. He walked over to the window, the towering cloaks casting a mighty shadow over him with the last rays of sunlight disappearing over the clouded sky. His head turned around the room, seeing sleeping bodies that paid no attention to him as he peered out the windows.

Thinking that it would be a few more hours until rescue would come, Pliskin decided that he would explore the complex. After all, one giant prison that looked like some rich man's personal apartment meant quite the adventure for a person like him. He retreated back down the hallway, apparently curious about the rooms his fellow strike members were held at. Though upon closer inspection of the room, the bodies were still in there, their parkas dripped in the color red. Ignoring the deceased, he tiptoed his way to the bed and nightstand, though upon closer inspection, a few personal photographs were placed on the oak surface. Delicately placed and ordered like a deck of cards, were the pictures of Jesse McCree with a few other people he could make out, and others he could not. Reinhardt, Winston, Morrison, Genji; those were all of his friends and teammates from Overwatch unsurprisingly.

However, there was one other picture that looked alien to him. There was someone in it that appeared to be of Hispanic descent, had a mustache and a slight goatee to him. The figure was clad in all black, his beanie included and donned an unfamiliar symbol on his right shoulder. The same symbol was plastered as a pin on the figures beanie, but after he looked around the room once more, he uncovered the same symbol painted on the wall as what appeared to be an inverted Overwatch logo, except that the orange bar was painted with white, and the silver with red. The paint was already faded away when Pliskin attempted to remove the paneling surrounding the decrepit logo, revealing a solid metal door behind the wood.

It was a classic hidden door like ones in those spy films Pliskin had watched when he was younger. The practice was already out of use by the time Overwatch and other organizations had developed the technology to perform and develop scans of rooms, easily showing where hidden passageways and doors were kept locked. This door, however, had managed to go under their radar and detection. It failed to have any precautionary settings or security systems implemented; no password terminal, no locks, and no hand or retinal scanners were embedded into the system, and there only existed one handle that could open and close it.

Pliskin was unsure if opening it would lead to certain doom or death, but he was curious as to the contents of the room. It reminded him of those movies with Harrison Jones, in particular, the final instalment of his last film before becoming an archaeologist full time; a castle with a hidden door waiting to hold his dad and the woman he had an affair with, but the exception of no woman or father inside needing to be saved.

He looked to his left as he made sure no one or no camera was following his actions. He grabbed the cool handle, the hairs on his back rising in excitement and in dread as he turned the knob to his left and pushed the door open to reveal nothing inside but rows of files and pictures. Pliskin walked inside as if he was ushered into a dining hall, but it was the images decked on the wall that caught his eye. There were pictures of him, Reinhardt, Sly, James, and nearly everyone he knew in Overwatch, the pictures interwoven with a red string designating their connections and affiliations. MI6, CIA, marriages, Overwatch, the Horde, the Alliance, nearly every group he knew, every guild he had been in contact with were somehow also linked to him. It was confusing to follow all of those red lines, multiple pictures pressed on the wall causing twists and turns that only made following the chart a hassle.

However, on the bottom of the diagram were several Manila files with the archetypal classified logo stamped on the direct center. But they all had subtitles to them, each with someone's name labeled across the heading. Bond, Wilhelm, McCree, Wrynn Family, Stark, Parker; these were the hero files that had been breached a year prior according to Pliskin as he flipped through the documents. Pliskin was curious to open James' folder; though inside he found some of his personal documents: tax files, identification, kill list, but there was something else that made Pliskin want to flip through even more.

There was a picture of him as a child, with a figure in the center assumed to be his father and the one burned out his supposed brother. James never had a brother, and his father and mother had died in a ski accident years prior to the Omnic War, Pliskin thought as he closed James' case folder. He was then curious to see what Reinhardt had in his, and inside was even more surprising. Reinhardt was born in 1954, as Pliskin recollected, but as he read more, he could see that Reinhardt had multiple disciplinary actions against him during his years as a German Crusader. Arrogant, strong-willed, headstrong, and reckless were some of the things that were written about him by what he assumed to be Balderich von Adler. There was even a picture of the two during the Omnic War, Reinhardt's original eagle-like armor adjutant to Baldrick's own armor. He scoured through the documents, going back as far as his birth records to as modern as the past year. As he suspected, it was Reinhardt who was the primary person who supported him receiving a commission, but what also surprised him was that Nick Fury and Ana Amari also supported him and his commission.

He was about to take all the files when there was one more that was left unopened. Placing the hefty stack on the table, he reached down into the dusty shelf to grab the manila file that was as thick as a binder, but as he read the name on it, his heart dropped down in fear. The document read out his name in bold, Christopher Hall with his assumed alias printed on the bottom: "Pliskin". He wondered why he had accumulated so many files and papers to his name, he didn't think that he wouldn't be much of a threat or of any importance considering that he was once a simple apprentice in Lion's Arch. His heart began to throb the moment he flipped the file open, revealing a personal note written by what assumed to be the leader of the operation, claiming that these were some of the most valuable pieces of documents that could be connected with nearly everyone they had their eyes on.

As he read the note and flipped through the papers with everything of relevance to him, his eyes widened when he came to his adoption papers. Formally signed when he was only 13 years of age, it meant that Reinhardt was his legal guardian. He never forgot how kind it was when the old man offered to take him in following the Moscow Incident, and Pliskin never forgot how awesome and cool it was to be the traveling companion to someone you only met for six months as well as an engineer who created him some of his gear. But what actually caused his heart to drop was a single page that he had never even dreamt or thought about: his birth parents.

He gazed at the white colored pamphlet, seeing the words directly typed in front of him caused his hands to go numb with the words printed out. Gregory Wojciech Hall was the first name listed, the man in a beret and trench coat his father; his mother, however, was burned out, her name mysteriously left unidentified. The only thing Pliskin was able to note of his mother was that she was a private in Overwatch as well, his father a sergeant.

"Killed in action during the Battle of Eichenwalde."

A voice said behind him. Pliskin jerked his head to face the voice that muttered those words, only to find out that it was Reinhardt.

"Your father, was a good person Christopher. He served with Overwatch pride, but that's not how the records remembered his death."

The crusader walked down to pick up Pliskin's fire, his giant hands flipping through each document, careful to not damage any of the papers.

"When you were born Pliskin, your mother was confirmed killed in action at Eichenwalde. Your father, Angela, and I were the ones to deliver you just as she took her dying breaths. When the Twelfth Doctor came along, we were instantly transported to the Battle of Mount Hyjal happening at the same time."

Reinhardt paused, kneeling down to get with Pliskin's height.

"Your father sacrificed himself to spring Malfurion's trap. We couldn't do anything with you, unfortunately, Christopher, I wanted to raise you alongside Brigitte and Torbjorn, but Overwatch wouldn't let me. And so, I left you in the care of that blacksmith, and did you know who I assigned to watch over you?"

"Rytlock, isn't it?"

"That is so. We at Overwatch never once wanted you Pliskin to follow in your father and mother's ranks, but your destiny was your own."

"And so I chose to join then?"

"Precisely. And I hear the roar of some jets I suppose. Care to investigate with me Pliskin?"

They ran back up the hallway, Pliskin holding the files in his hand. The Quinjets were docked in near the windows, two ramps extending into the meeting hall. Inside one of them was Rytlock and the others, the second jet containing Pharah and her team. Rytlock made a gesture calling them to climb on, Zarya, Q, and McCree in Pharah's ship, while Reinhardt, Pliskin, Reaper, and Dima all crammed into the other.

"We're encountering WAY too much heavy resistance, so you might wanna brace for something."

The pilot warned as he closed the ramp doors. Pliskin was greeted with cheers and smiles from the other crewmates and was delightfully surprised when he saw Tracer inside. She offered him a hug, Pliskin pulling her into one as they embraced. Rytlock mentioned that they found her wandering the southern reaches of the border before stopping to pick up the group which surprised Pliskin considering that he'd expect her to be somewhere else inside the complex.

"What about those explosives?"

Pliskin asked.

"They'll detonate once we clear the area! Those are a new prototype developed by Q branch!"

"Oh really now? But you know what's even better, Reinhardt and I recovered these files from the complex! Have most of everyone files on them!"

They all gasped as they each attempted to reach for their dossier, only for the quick jerk of the jet's engines to engage as they were thrust forward, escaping the prison.

"Now's that time to hold on now!"

The pilot yelled as the prison complex burst into a magnificent explosion of orange and red. Gunfire resumed as the automated defenses that came as a failsafe engaged, anti-aircraft turrets and missile launchers rising from the ground as a hail of gunfire erupted against the two planes. The pilots attempted a quick corkscrew as everyone rushed to get their seatbelts on, the force of the roll throwing Rytlock against the cabin walls before he was able to sit down completely.

They again attempted another maneuver, turning the plane into a barrel roll that caused two missiles to collide mid-air, eliciting cheers from the entire crew. The jets hurdled past the Austrian border as the mileage counter ticked past fifty miles, clearly out of range for any missile. As the jets evened out at around four thousand feet, rain began to pelt against the fuselage, thunder and lightning beginning to dance around the two quinjets as the pulled up closer into the storm.

"We should be safe. I don't reckon that any missile can penetrate this storm."

But he was quickly mistaken, his missile alert system blaring into their ears as both jets attempted to perform evasive maneuvers. A lone missile, started to hurtle towards one of the jets, The pilots attempting to perform all of the possible tricks with what was possible with their aircraft; loops, rolls, turns, anything that could throw off this new missile off its course.

The projectile was able to catch up with Pharah's jet, the tip of the missile nearly exploding near the fuselage, if it wasn't for the quick thinking of the other pilot, the missile harmlessly exploding in the air, as he tipped the missle into flying forward, exploding in front of the plane causing hundreds of fragments to shower in the sky and into the engine, causing the quinjet as it pummeled into the ground, the jet grinding to a skidding halt, a smoldering wreck visible to the other jet as it passed by the inferno that had started to develop. Pharah was the one to reach into the radio and messaged the ship with the words,

"Gull Two hit, Gull Two hit."

* * *

Wow! Looking back at this story, I am shocked as to how terrible my original writing was, man I am so embarrassed to read how poorly written the first seven chapters were! Many thanks to the people who have continued to view and read my most viewed fanfiction ever!

 **Be sure to continue: "Welcome to Overwatch: Long Way Coming".**


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